The lesser evil
by rotorhead
Summary: 2007 movie. Damaged and in Autobot territory with nowhere to go, Barricade is left with few options, none of which he likes.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own the Transformers, talk to Hasbro about that.

Chapter 1

The accident.

* * *

And sometimes life sucked.

Like now, here he was driving in the rain toward his mortal enemies. Why? Oh, yes. So he could find them and relay their positions to Starscream. It seemed like a good plan , if you ignored the whole they have better communication equipment and that Barricade was not designed for spy work, thing. Oh he could and he would find them, he excelled at that part. What turned this little reconnaissance mission in to a kamikaze run was as soon as he transmitted the Autobots new base location to Starscream, not only would the ego fueled jet know where he was, so would the Autobots. Then Starscream might, might send in the troops and attack depending on how many of the Autobots there were. Which meant that it wasn't going to happen.

Yep, he was going to get his aft handed to him.

Not that he doubted his fighting skills, not in the least, but come on. Primes signal was sure to have reached someone. Which left him not knowing how many he had the potential to be up against. At least 4, that was how many that had stayed on this dirt ball planet after Megatons death. One of which was Optimus Prime himself. Those odds might be fine for Blackout or Devastator who had more cannons then brains, but he preferred to hunt and stalk his prey. Taking them out one by one, on his terms and less likely to get him slagged.

Frag it all, the only reason he was on this mission was that he is currently the only land based Decepticon functioning and to the damnable flyers that had come to aid Starscream, that made him the least valued.

In fact to the three F-22's it made him barely above being an Autobot.

Never mind that Megatron had made him a Ranking Officer and put him in charge of the troops that specialized in seek and destroy on Cybertron. That he had one of the best track records in respect for missions completed, objectives captured and of course, enemies killed.

Nope, send the dirt lover anyway.

Barricades engine revved in his agitation as the rain pelted his glossy finish. There were three more Decepticons inbound, due to make landfall sometime within the next month and for the love of Primus, let them not be flyers. Or at least let them be tolerable ones like Blackout had been. The red glare of break lights flashed in front of him and he glided around the aged minivan the lights had been emitted from.

Stupid fleshling's, unable to control the primitive vehicles they themselves had created when this pathetic planet's atmosphere relived itself of excess moisture.

The rhythmic swish of his windshield wipers along with the rain hitting him filled his interior. He almost missed the random and annoying Frenzy, almost. He would have been sent on this mission instead of him, spy work was his function after all. That had been the reason he had picked the over revving 'con as a partner. Frenzy was outstanding in finding the target and he was outstanding at destroying the target. It worked out well. By the pit, the spastic little bot would have enjoyed this sort of Starscream induced fiasco. But it didn't matter, Frenzy was dead, and with the half soldered sparkling of an eight track player as the Decepticons new "leader" he was probably going to join Frenzy in the hereafter a lot sooner then he would have liked.

More break lights and the police cruiser zippered through the line up in the middle lane, speeding up. At least he was doing something instead of just roaming around the various continents trying to avoid being detected. That was just, just pathetic, him an upper echelon Decepticon hiding.

Although in the interests of self preservation it had been necessary, but now after 3 human months the Screamer had returned. Having promptly declared himself the new Decepticon leader with intentions for this planet and sent him to gather intelligence on the Autobots. Sending him straight toward what he had been carefully avoiding.

Taking a curve at over double the posted limit, Barricade's aft end slid out and he hydroplaned/ drifted around it. Tires grabbing traction when the highway straightened out and he shot forward.

Maybe, if he played this right, he could take out a few of the Autobots before calling in the air idiots. It would make this endeavor a little more enjoyable if someone was suffering more then he was. Besides he had been part of worse scenarios on Cybertron and had always made the situation work out to his liking. With lots of pain and suffering dealt to his opponents to give the mission a splash of zest. He was more then capable of coming up with a functional and workable plan, something Starscream obviously never picked up.

Revving his supercharged engine Barricade continued his trip down the western seaboard of the stretch of dirt labeled America.

Yes, he could do this, there were more then enough hole and gaps in the pathetic plan for him to put in his own ideas. For one, Starscream wanted the location of the base and numbers of the Autobots, he never specified that Barricade was to be at said location when transmitting the information.

Hmmm.

The fleshling, Ladiesman 217, has a residence in vector California. The yellow Autobot might still be around the cretin, he still owed that one a rematch and the Autobot would of course know the location of his comrades and home base. He would have to confirm the location of course, but that could be done after he terminated the Yellow Bot.

Yes, he could make this work quite nicely.

Barricade pulled up his memory files on Ladysman217's home address, then maps of the areas roadways from the internet. He needed to continue south on the 'I' 5 then turn east, away from the ocean and when he hit the deserts; he knew he would be getting close.

At his current speed, he put his ETA at 7 hours 47minutes and 23 seconds. Of course he would have to drop below 120 miles per hour at some point and do some reconnaissance on the fleshling before moving forward with his plan.

Yes, this was shaping up quite well. He might not even get too dinged up, if he could use the meat creature to coerce the Yellow Autobot in to giving over the information then offline the both of them.

A large green sign hung over the road, declaring that the four lane interstate would split in two. One heading for San Francisco the other continuing south without going through the city. Barricade wove his way around the other vehicles and in to the left lanes that would bypass the city. Wind rushed in from the ocean and the other vehicles of the road slowed down to an infuriating crawl. Head lights of the cars around him flicked on as the sunlight dimmed in a sky already blackened by storm clouds.

Pitiful creatures these humans, not even having the proper sensors installed in them for night operations. How was it that they had survived for this long? Let alone become the dominated species of the planet, something should have been able to eat them during the night.

The road rose up, hugging the side of a steep hill as the route bound for the city stayed near the base. Rain drops rode the wind and pelted him more fiercely then ever as he down shifted to get more torque on the incline. The black and white snaked his way through the commuters with ease, getting to a clear area a few car lengths long on the outside lane.

Barricade dug through all the information Frenzy had acquired on Ladiesman217. It was old, but it had helped him corner the meat stick once before.

The metal guard rails whipped by as he gunned his engine, eating up the open space and merging in to the middle lane to avoid an old Buick going way to slow.

The highway followed the curve of the hill to form a large loop and when it straightened, the Police car spotted a bridge over the interstate he had just diverged from. As the rest of the traffic slowed for the wind exposed bridge, Barricade barreled on. He may be the same general size as the other occupants of the road, but he was comprised of much denser materials and weighed well over 3 times as much. It must be that extra armor plating, or maybe the fusion cannons. What did it matter, he just liked that the wind couldn't push him around. This filthy, organic planet couldn't throw anything from its atmosphere that was remotely damaging. He was too strong, to powerful to be stopped by puny things like wind and rain.

The black and white danced through the slower traffic, flicking on his police lights once to get a Honda out of his way so he could get back to his cruising speed.

The road straightened and wind gusted as he roared passed a blocky SUV. Old, faded blue-gray, with rusted out fenders, the Bronco fish tailed from the wind and the moronic driver jerked on the steering wheel, overcompensating. Swerving out of his lane to tap Barricade's rear quarter panel just as he whipped past.

Curses sprang out of his vocalizer as his aft end fish tailed on the slick road. The thick stream of cybertronian increasing as his rear pulled even with his front, his momentum carrying him broadside down the road. Barricade braked, twisted and managed to regain enough control over himself to not be hit by a large Dodge truck whose horn blared before ramming in to the Bronco. Finagling himself into the outside lane as he slowly reduced his speed. Somewhere around 50 miles per hour and sill moving sideways, the old boat of a Buick rounded the curve and slammed in to him.

The scream of metal meeting metal at high speed. Of springs, cogs and glass shattering from the impact reached his audios as he forced himself to ignore the blooming pain that danced on his circuits and think.

He bounced off the Buick and slid a few feet before plunging through the metal guard rail and down the steep embankment.

Mud kicked up as he skidded down, spraying in to his damaged side and clogging his intakes. He needed to stop, there was no hope for traction on the slick hillside. Small shrubs slapped into him, some persistent ones clinging to his undercarriage as he transformed. It was dark out and he was low enough from the road the motorists should not see him. The groan of his frame disjointing and shifting cut off abruptly as his left front tire, the one leading the hectic slide dropped in to an irrigation drain. Caught in mid transform and seriously unbalanced, his continued momentum forced his tire rim to wedge in to the drain.

The sudden dip and stopping of his tire failed to stop the rest of him and he was flung over his stationary tire. The entire assembly from the bearing out separated from the rest of him with a sharp crack when gravity forced him to continue to roll down the steep hill.

Fenders buckled in and his own weight beat him in to pulp as he bounced off rocks and boulders. Balancing gyros cracked and he could no longer tell when he was right side up or upside down. It all blended in to a jumble of black sky and muddied earth alternating with each stab of fresh pain. There was a lurch and a moment of being airborne, then he met back up with the ground with a creaking protest of gears and transistors at the impact.

Sensors caked with mud and gyros offline Barricade held still.

For the love of Primus he hurt.

Bright blue energon leaked from where his left front wheel had been mounted and he could feel the trickle of various liquids escaping their lines and reservoirs to coat him. There was the tell tail tickle of sparking circuitry at far toq many locations for it to be healthy.

He was still caught in the stage of transformation where he looked like a mismatched heap of scrap metal. With a groan of the resounding pain that took up most of his attention he tried to finish his transformation.

He could fix himself if he could pull out his hands. Or maybe drag himself away from the prying eyes of the pathetic humans and let his internals mend on their own. Either way, he wasn't going to get very far without a 4th wheel assembly in car mode.

Straining, pressure built and bent, broke or otherwise damaged cogs grinded and stayed put. Trying again the pressure burst a line and bright green coolant sprayed out adding itself to the collection of liquids covering him. Mixing with the incessant rain to form a colorful pool around him.

Well if turning in to his bipedal form was not working, then he should try to return to car form. Laying here half and half meant that some of his delicate internals and primary lines were exposed to the elements. And Barricade didn't even want to think what would happen if an Autobot found him, after he finished laughing at him that was.

Again he strained, gears clanked and pistons groaned, but slowly the cogs started to move. Things snagged and caught from being bent out of place. Energon rushed out of a newly crumpled line and Barricade slumped, resting his battered and badly dented frame on the asphalt under him.

Warnings flashed on his HUD, the messages garbled by his glitching processors so he couldn't read what was wrong with him.

Barricade knew he would need a least a few days of recharge to get back to a functional state. Oh and the mission, that was not going to happen now. How could it? He only had 3 wheels and wasn't even sure he could move.

Growling at his predicament Barricade slid in to first gear and slowly tried to move forward. Dragging his bumper and sending sparks up from where his broken axle met the road.

The black and white halted and waited for the surge of pain to let off.

Starscream was going to shriek at him. Primus the flier really needed to re-calibrate his vocalizer.

Then the slagging seeker would just damage him further, to show his "superiority" and Barricades supposed stupidity and ineptness.

Right.

The funny part was Starscream would just be quoting Megatron when he had ripped in to Starscream for his many acts of stupidity and cowardice. As for the beating that would follow, it in turn would be followed by a repair drone. And in truth there wasn't much left unbroken for the Screamer to damage further.

Might as well get it over with.

Tweaking the bent antenna somehow still mounted on him and firing up his communications grid. Barricade let out a growl when he saw the grid would not access his previously saved comm channels. He sorted through the signals and frequencies looking for the one that would connect him to the fliers. Barricades HUD flashed and blanked out, flickering back online but still scrambled so he couldn't decipher the title of the frequency he was on.

His Heads Up Display blinked again, distracting him from his search so he turned it off.

The piercing cry of an air horn broke through the night, followed by a set of headlights belonging to a large truck as it rounded the turn.

His energon froze in his lines at the sight of the two beams of lights barreling down the small local highway he had landed on.

Rain poured from the sky, his pool of coolant, oils, energon and primitive fuels slicked the road further. Barricade tried to move, slamming in to gear his remaining front wheel spun wildly on the spilled fluids. The semi truck blared its horn again as it jack knifed. Trailer sliding out to block the both lanes of the road as tires screeched and the fragging lights were the only thing his optics could see.

Then the Freightliner plowed in to him.

* * *

edited on 8 June 2011


	2. deep fried slag

Rocks and hard places.

Chapter 2

Deep Fried Slag

Barricade snapped online as forklift tines passed through his shattered passenger side windows and lifted him from the bed of a flatbed truck.

"Take it over to the compactor queue Mac, it's to far gone for people to salvage anything off it."

The flannel adorned fleshing speaker spit a dark blob to the mud at his feet and the one driving the forklift slapped the leavers in to gear.

"I don't know Fred, the engine looks somewhat intact. 'Sides you know how them Mustang guys are, they'll pay good money even for a crushed P.O.S as long as it has that pony."

Fred spit again, and walked over to the totaled Mustang as it hung on the tines. The Decepticon stopped himself from flinching as the meat creature popped his hood and whistled.

"Damn, to think that some schmuck tricked this baby out then not only crashed it, but left it along side the road for a week. Look at this Mac, this engine is top o' the line, turbo charged and not all that bad."

Barricade cringed as his lines were no so gently pulled and the man's filthy hands touched his delicate and still achingly tender components.

"That's what I'm saying, a car like this, somebody will want a piece of it just to say they got it, you know what I'm saying?"

If he could transform, they would be dead. Slag it, if he wasn't hanging four feet off the ground they would be dead by now.

And he'd blow the forklift up for good measure.

"Yeah, I know what you're getting at. And it isn't in as bad of condition as the police made it out to be. Put it with the other scavenger cars then we got to get the truck loaded up."

Mac saluted with horrible form and grinned as he turned the dinged up forklift away from the car crusher and headed towards the mountains of scrap metal awaiting its fate.

The small grubby vehicle traversed the mud infested gravel road, lurching every time it contacted a pothole, which was often. Every 3.749 seconds by Barricades calculations.

Wincing as he was jostled yet again as the forklift halted then unceremoniously dropped the battered Mustang between a decimated Datsun and an crushed red van. The mud adorned forklift beeped as it backed up and made its way through the hodgepodge of destroyed vehicles and randomly abandoned junk.

Waiting until the organic drove passed the pile of rusted washing machines and ancient bicycles that made the entrance to the compactor area. Barricade let out the groan that he had wanted to let out the moment he on-lined.

Oh for the love of Primus he hurt.

He slumped on his frame and winced, even that was bent out of shape. Way out of shape.

Fragging truck hit him just about broadside. Maybe a bit more towards the rear end but he was still at least 3 feet thinner and horrendously crumpled.

He hissed as he tried to fire up his computers only to receive the cybertronian blue screen of death.

Wonderful.

He powered down and tried again, relived when he received more then just an error message.

What had those fleshlings said? He had been off-line for a week?

That would explain why he was on-line at all.

His regenerative program could fix damages over time, a lot of time.

Frag, his internet connection was still non-functional, so how long was a week? Not long enough that was for sure.

The police cruiser focused as his on board systems beeped as they fully on-lined. Cringing as arcs danced on compromised circuits and he still could not decipher the gobbledygook that displayed on his screen. Things blinked red in scattered pixels and why in the name of the pit were times new roman symbols being displayed? Wasn't that some odd human form of script, but not for all humans? How in the name of Primus did this species last as long as it has when it's language wasn't even standardized.

The ground vibrated as a throaty metal roar echoed from the vehicle carcases that surrounded him sending up a flock of jet black birds to the dreary gray sky. The rumble engulfed the junk yard for 5 minutes then increased in it's tempo and pitch followed by the scream of metal being crushed.

Well, this place was nice. All it needed were Autobots screaming and the sound of weapon fire then it would be like cybertron.

Well, minus the mud and the persistent organic growth that rose to hood height in scattered clumps.

Barricade wiggled a tire in the mush under him and looked at the Datsun Fairlady Z that had what he had identified as grass, growing in it as it sat next to him. The smaller car baring the same indentations of high speed collision as him as well as evidence of forceful removal of its hood and engine. The hood hinges sticking up in the air next to the shrub that had taken root in the vacant space were its engine use to be.

At least it didn't fly, or screech.

As long as it stayed that way he was fine with his new neighbor.

And he still hurt, oh yes.

Every circuit throbbed now that there was power flowing to them and for the love of Primus his structural components! His frame buckled and twisted, side caved in and he still was missing his left front tire. At least he was no longer leaking energon. Self regenerative programs always fixed ruptured lines first. Good thing too.

Bright blue liquid might of gotten the planets squishy inhabitants attention and they would of gotten the Autobots.

The metal scream resounded through the junkyard again and the black and white's engine sputtered before roaring to life. Much louder and with more clanking then before the trip down the hill. Blue smoke drifted up from under his still unlatched hood and Barricade shifted in to gear.

As soon as he was able he would kill the 2 fleshlings that had seen him.

But before then he had to ensure he would not be fed to the compactor for the duration he was here healing and there was no way he was going to let some stupid carbon based life form touch him again. If the insects tried to pillage him for parts he would kill them. Period.

Even if it was just by running them over repeatedly.

The Mustang braced against the pain he knew would be forthcoming and pressed his accelerator. Spinning his remaining front tire in the goo under him for almost a minute before catching traction and lurching forward a few feet in the slick sludge.

Promptly stalling out with a series of resounding thunks.

Great.

"Looks like you are having a bit of a problem Barricade."

The ground shook as the blue tinted F-22 transformed and landed. Crushing the red van under his feet and placing his hand on the police cruisers hood, closing it.

"Yeah, a big slagging problem what's it to you?"

The much larger transformer leaned down, imprinting his hand in to the black and whites hood.

"Well I seem to be having a problem with a dirt kisser that can't follow orders. Starscream looks down on underlings that can't even do re-con right."

Before he could formulate a response Tundercracker gabbed him by the grille guard and flung him in to a cluster of rusted out cars a few cluttered rows away.

Barricade clipped a Escort and crashed in to a Impala before sinking in to the puddle of mud under the vehicles.

Ok, this was not going well.

He knew his new 'leader' would be pissed and that he would be on the receiving end of an aft kicking for it. But Starscream should have secured the area or was Thundercracker here on his own accord?

Mud had splattered on his sides and undercarriage clogging intakes and hindering gears. He was still listing to the left from his AWOL wheel bearing assembly and there was no way in the pit he was just going to lay there and take a beating.

Even if it was warranted for mission failure.

He had his pride.

Straining himself he tried to transform. Gears grinding and he put as much pressure as he could on his cogs. A grinding noise issued forth from his damaged frame, sounding his transformation cogs blunt refusal.

The ground shook as Thundercracker charged and kicked Barricade. Jolting his protesting cogs enough to get them to comply. Transforming midair and landing poorly from the damaged that reflected on his bipedal form. His crumpled frame issuing out agony like it was high grade at a party.

The red warnings blinking incessantly in the garbled language informing him of everything he managed to re-break by transforming and everything that was still broken for that matter.

Barricade dodged the seekers next swipe and earned a face plate full of mud for the effort.

He never gave in and submitted to a beating.

Never.

The black and whites left leg trembled in the battle stance. It had the most damage although his chest was caved in, in quite a few places. Again Thundercracker jumped at him and Barricade stepped aside and twisted around to get a solid blow in.

He couldn't stagger the blue/grey seeker. No he was just to fragging large but he knew all the places to hit that hurt.

And judging from the roar and Thundercracker taking to the sky, it did.

Ducking behind a small hill covered in motorcycle chassis' Barricade took a knee.

Oh Primus, he hurt, he throbbed and ached and...

THOOOM

He rolled, it hurt like hell but the shot missed him and incinerated the Datsun he had originally been placed next to.

"You little Fragging glitch. If your not with us your against us and since you won't accept punishment as seen fit by your better, your dead."

The F-22 stood out against the un-assorted piles of junk, his fusion cannon letting off tendrils of steam as he scoped out the uneven terrain.

Cars were piled up to 5 high is some places and the heaps of washing machines/ dryers/ dishwashers/ sleeper couches/ random metal created little mountains of sensor deflecting metals.

Barricade knelt behind one, audios tuned in to the seekers footfalls as he diverted power from his regenerative program to his weapon systems.

"So Starscream wants me dead or are you just mad that I hit you?"

The police cruiser ducked and rolled then cringed and limped behind an old school bus that no longer had any windows.

"You infidel, Starscream gave you a chance to redeem yourself for your crimes at Mission City and this is what you do? Despicable."

Thundercracker let loose 4 rounds, sending the car compactor and the hoist that fed it up in flames. Probably the fleshys that ran it as well.

"Mission City? How the slag would you know anything about what happened at Mission City?"

Barricade shouted before he ducked in to the basement of a building that was only partly there. The gloomy sky threatening more rain and the one standing wall at his back.

"Your cowardice precedes you, you ran from Mission City and you ran from your current mission. You are pathetic and unworthy of being a Decepticon. Starscream had ordered that should you fail your mission, you would be destroyed for incompetence. I get to have the fun of carrying out the sentence."

Woah, Starscream called him a coward, for Mission City?

The hypocrite.

The failure at Mission City was not his fault and the Screamer knew that.

Barricade's processors hummed as they integrated this information.

Someone had to take the blame for the failure at Mission City and the bastard jet wouldn't stand up and take it. Of course not, Starscream was in the middle of cementing his position as commander.

So that left him, the ground pounder in the company of fliers.

The slagging jet didn't even come in person, he just sent one of his lackeys to kill him. At least Megatron would kill you himself if he thought that you were stabbing the wrong backs or wanted everyone to think that you were. Primus, why do cowards like Starscream aspire to leadership?

More importantly, why do they end up getting it?

The Mustang groaned as his leg frizzed and arcs of energy coursed over his processors.

The roar of jet engines reverberated through the old wood and as the blue grey bird took to the sky, he charged his arm cannon.

He was not the biggest, or the strongest Decepticon out there and he was sure that some of them were smarter them him. But he was a fighter and a fragging good shot.

Aiming for the junction where the wing met the fuselage he fired.

Thundercracker rolled as he transformed midair landing awkwardly and sliding in the mud. Sending cars and mud splattering away as his feet dug ruts in the ground.

The seeker roared as his arms converted to an array of weapons and Barricade ducked as Thundercracker let loose.

The cement of the basement protecting him from the wrath of the air idiot as he expended his ammo. Vehicles exploded, shrapnel whistled through the remains of the building above him as dirt rained down. There was no way Thundercracker knew where he was, so he was razing the entire junkyard indiscriminately.

The blasts stopped and a thrum sounded as the seekers power supply circulated tryed to replenish from the weapons fire. Barricade rose out of his hiding spot brushing splinted wood off of himself and firing several times at the arrogant jet.

He hit the seeker twice as he ran for cover behind a pile of crushed cars that exploded before he reached them. Barricade threw himself to the side and rolled, leveling his cross hairs on the dark grey jet that was pulling up having finished his staffing run and was circling around.

Thundercracker roared from three junk heaps over and transformed taking to the sky to team up with Skywarp.

Slag.

Frag.

Glitching little pit spawn from the third moon of aft kicking.

Starscream really wanted him deactivated to send both of the air idiots.


	3. damned

The lesser evil.

Chapter 3

Damned

Barricade rolled, ignoring the pain in his left leg and took cover behind a stack of crushed cars. The squished, rectangular, used to be mobile vehicles between him and the two jets searing across the gray sky. Lowering his weapon, he crouched down and paused to let his badly dented vents cycle some fresh air, emitting a high pitch wheeze in their efforts. His door panels twitched from their mounted location on his back and the black and white jumped up and broke in to a run.

Slag, slag, slag!

The stack of cars exploded, multi colored shrapnel pelted his legs and back, stinging like he had been infested by turbo fleas. Jumping over a small mound of washing machines he pelted down the dirt road. Knee creaking and grinding he hurtled a crumpled trailer and wobbled on his damaged leg.

Barricade bit back his groan of pain as he slid in the gravelly mud to make it behind a smoking heap, that might have been a semi in its past life, before he came in to the seekers line of sight.

The duo of jets hunting him roared past his new location and he watched as the darker one broke formation to angle in to land. Transforming moments before touch down and hitting the rain sodden earth with a wet thump.

The lumbering seeker tipped over a tower of bald tractor tires and kicked a Jeep that got in his way. Silent stalking so very not his style and clearly unamused at the mud that now clung to his legs, Skywarp charged his arm mounted cannon and methodically started to blast anything heaped high enough to hide a mustang. As Thundercracker continued to circle over head, ready to blast anything that moved.

Awww were the seekers getting tired of this game of hide and seek already? They never did have much of an attention span.

Alright then, plan b.

His vents sputtered and his battered leg squeaked embarrassingly as Barricade eased himself to the muddied ground. Chest plates hitting the mushy earth with a sickening slurp that made the mech shutter in disgust.

Filthy, organic, pathetic, dirt ball planet and its revolting mud and humans and everything else. Unicron wouldn't even want to eat this place.

Shutting off all non-vital systems, the injured cop car pressed his back against the smoldering metal and waited.

Methodical was good, it made the next move easier to predict. He too was growing tired of the cat and mouse game. Especially since he was the mouse.

Skywarp slowly made his way over to the wreckage containing Barricade and true to form the black seeker sent an EMP to the cluster of now molten vehicles to the right of the mustang.

Glitch riddled seeker, tactics are only good if your opponent doesn't know what's in your battle log.

At the sound of the weapon's discharge and the following chirr of it recharging, the police cruiser leaped to his feet, diverted all available power to his own fusion cannon and fired repeatedly at nearly point blank range in to Skywarp.

Oh, and this mouse bit back.

The F-22 staggered back from the sudden assault, tripping over his own feet and falling in to the recently created mound of melting car with an indigent roar and all the grace of a stasis locked turbo fox. Barricade spun around to watch the other aircraft, holding his ground for a few spark pounding seconds as Thundercraker lined up for the shot.

He rolled to the side once the jet was in position and landed on his dented feet at an all out run.

At the concussion from the blasts and the enraged screech from behind, Barricade confirmed that the dark seeker was to bulky to have any sort of maneuverability on the ground.

Not much difference then on cybetron really.

Flyboys should stick to the sky regardless of the planet. Where they had the entire fragging atmosphere to make a single turn.

The blue gray F-22 was doing just that, circling around. A maneuver Barricade knew would take a few seconds for the jet to complete.

He ran as fast as his injured leg would let him, making it over the berm that hid the junkyard from the street. Charging across the asphalt and vaulting over a smallish stream, the police car crash landed in to a thick strand of trees as the sound of jet engines got dramatically louder overhead.

Weapons blasts licked his heels and chewed up the ground around him. Felling the trees around him as he zig zagged through the woods to avoid being hit. By rounds or splintered tree trunks.

Turning sharply and letting off a few of his own rounds he continued to run all out after the jets flew past him.

A seeker going at full speed when airborne required a quarter mile to do a 180 degree turn. Plus or minus depending on the atmosphere of whatever planet they were on.

Oh, the wondrous things you pick up when most beings that fly want you dead or seriously injured and those were just the ones on his side of the war.

Listening as jet engines roared over head, cris-crossing each other as they banked sharply.

His screens still refused to offer any sort of readable data, just blinking in an annoying red color as he ran through the last line of trees, snapping two of the evergreens in half and halting as the forest opened up to rolling hills without much on them.

Fragtastic.

He didn't know where he was and had no way of finding out. Even the inefficient human police equipment Frenzy had acquired for him was broken.

This was not his style. No, he liked to know what he was getting in to. Use everything to his advantage. He would need everything working to his advantage if he wanted to survive this. He needed a defendable position, a rock ledge, or another cement basement, Primus a highway overpass would work, anything to cover him from above so he could stand a chance against the slagging seekers.

Jet engines roared above him and he turned sharply again, falling to his side as his feet slid out from under him on the weedy meadow grass and earning a disgusted look from the pastures black and white bovine inhabitants.

His screens flashed as the sensor equipment in his door panels went haywire. He had no idea what they were saying but they flashed rather insistently.

Ignoring the pain from his wounded leg he dragged himself back to his feet and started running again. Noticeably slower then before and with a distinct limp.

His screen flashed another scrambled warning and unsure if it was a proximity alert or a weapon is locked on to his aft alert, he kept running. More red lights started blinking and knowing that whatever it was, it wasn't good, he plowed through a fence. Leaped down the closest hill and slid down the slick slope.

Heat seeking missiles slammed in to the other side of the mound, raining dirt, rocks and mud down on him as the concussion from the blast sent him sprawling on to his back a good distance away from where he started.

Thundercracker and Skywarp soared across the sky above him going around wide for another pass as he gazed blankly up at the heavens.

The sky having threatened rain all day made good on the promise and tore open the gray clouds. Fat raindrops pelted him in a symphony of pings as the mustang lay trembling in a golf course sand trap. Door panels bent in all the wrong ways and sand getting in to places he didn't even want to think about.

Owwwwwwww.

Oh sweet Primus, why have you forsaken me?

Barricade brought his optics back online and groaned at the cracks and dark spot he had on the right one.

He had to move, find cover, do something. Looking around, passed all the disappointingly flat golf greens he saw it.

A small road with a bridge over one of the golf courses water hazards.

Who gave a slag, he could defend that position with the bridge protecting him from the air imbeciles. He might have a shot at surviving this.

He forced himself to his feet, Thundercracker and Skywarp were coming in for another go, his damaged door sensors could pick up the vibrations in the air, or was something locked on his aft again?

His screens blinked out and fizzled back on slowly as he limped, half dragging his wounded leg and ignored all the persistent things that booped and beeped telling him to lay down and recharge or face stasis. The bridge was right there and the seekers had gone high up for some reason.

Oh, slag me sideways with a socket set.

Primus must hate him, it was the only fragging explanation.

A shinny yellow Camaro with black racing stripes crossed the bridge and turned off the road. It opened its door letting its fleshling charge run for cover and proceeded to cut across the nicely manicured golf lawn.

Heading right for him as his garbled screens started to blink in the oh this is not good way.

The Autobot scout transformed a few feet in front of him and leveled his cannon with the police vehicles dented head. A gesture that Barricade returned. The glitch riddled insect probably wanted him to surrender. Probably thought that he couldn't fight much in his current condition.

Well the vermin could shove that up his tail pipe and smoke it.

Admittedly he did hurt, his leg was fritzing and there was energon leaking from more places then he cared to count. Not to mention the sand in his gears and the rain was shorting his exposed circuits. He was certain the bug could pick up that his cannon arm was trembling from, well his without his screens he didn't know why, just that it was happening.

But surrendering was never an option and would never be an option.

And then came the roar of F-22 engines.

Why yes, Primus hated him.

There had been times in the past when he enjoyed the look of dawning realization on an Autobots face when the big guns stepped out from their hiding spot and the enormity of the situation they had just walked into became apparent.

But this time he wasn't the bait or a harbinger of things to come.

This was his fight though. Between him and the two slag sucking jets and if he had no other choice in the matter, then he'd fight out in the open.

And with all due respect, the bug had to take a number and wait his turn for his aft whooping.

They had come first after all.

Looking the Autobot in the optic Barricade lowered his weapon.

"Your next fragger."

Thundercracker and Skywarp were closing in and the incredulous look on Bumblebees face plates doubled when Barricade turned his back to the yellow bot and fired at the incoming jets.

Stupid Autobots and their pathetic notions of honor. The gnat would actually wait his turn.

One less thing, two huge problems remaining.

Skywarp definitely looked the worst off of the two with melted bits of car parts stuck to him and large blast marks courtesy of Thundercracker and the half a dozen point blank rounds. He focused his fire of the darker one, seeing how it was more likely for him to down that bird. After a few seconds, more weapons blasts then he alone could produce pounded in to the dark gray seeker. A quick glance to the side confirmed that Bumblebee was shooting as well. Not the smartest move, but he wasn't going to argue.

Skywarps wing caught fire and with a roar he released the ordnance attached to the burning appendage.

The ground around him erupted into a maelstrom of fire and molten dirt as air to ground missiles landed at his and the insects feet.

The world jumbled together and fell apart as the blasts threw him a good 50 feet. Flipping end over end and bouncing off a tree, he slid the last few yards until he slammed in to a hedgerow that tangled him up enough to stop him.

Somehow he was still online. Not that he really wanted to be.

Face down in the mud, shrub branches intermingling with his lines and energon leaking in spurts as the scorched yellow mech fought with the grounded Skywarp on the other side of the fresh crater. The jet was indeed too big and bulky to be a good ground pounder, as long as the Autobot could dodge he might stand a chance against him.

Or at least distract him long enough for Barricade to get away.

That worked for him.

He forced himself to stand and wobbled on his barely functioning leg. Dirt fell off of him in blue stained clumps and the mustang paused to clear his vents of the leaves he had acquired. Circulating the much needed fresh air he limped over to the tree he had taken a chunk out of and leaned on it, watching the battle before him.

Skywarp towered over the yellow Autobot who danced around the larger mech firing at the underside of the giants armor. He really didn't care who won the fight. If it went his way they would beat each other in to oblivion.

A metallic screech filled the air as the seeker managed to pin the Autobot under his foot and Skywarp laughed as he charged his shoulder mounted cannon.

Well, there went his pound-each-other-in-to-scrap-metal hopes.

But he still need time to get away. 'So, don't take this personally, bug.

Barricade leveled his cross-hairs to Skywarp's knee joint and fired. Bee rolled free at the bellow of pain and resumed the fight as Barricade limped over to the bridge.

One foot in the still, green tinted water, the ominous echo of jet engines reached him before he made it the rest of the way in.

"TRAITOR!!"

Thundercracker swooped in, throwing him to the ground, away from the over head safety as the jet transformed and landed almost on top of him. Rolling so he was face up Barricade let loose round after round in to the underbelly of the behemoth towering above him. He was sure that it hurt the seeker from the roar the jet produced but instead of flying off, Thundercracker leaned back and came down with a ferocious punch that connected with the battered black and white's chest.

Armor plates, already buckled and cracked from the collision with the semi truck gave way under the assault and Barricade stilled as the blow shattered his primary circuit board and several relays that connected it to his spark chamber.

His weapon converged back to his arm and fell limply to his side as his body gave a violent lurch.

Frag it all.

An unhealthy chunk of his systems were no longer receiving power.

Slag, even his processors shut down. He rerouted what power he had and attempted to reboot.

Thundercracker laughed as his own energon leaked out and dripped on to the unmoving black and white under him. His claw like hand wrapped around Barricades weapon arm lifting the police car so that he was optic to beady red optic with the police cruiser.

"I hope you're not dead yet. I plan to have some fun for all the trouble you've been. And for betraying Megatron at Mission City, you deserve to suffer."

Now would probably be a bad time to say that he had been following orders at Mission City. That this entire ordeal was nothing more then Starscream trying to cover his tracks.

In fact judging from the vile gleam in Thundercracker's optics there was nothing he could say to get out of this.

As if on cue, the much larger jet roared in primitive rage and flung him to the earth, stepping on him and pulling until cogs disjointed and armor pealed away.

He was sure he screamed when his door panels were torn off and laid his precision sensors and detecting equipment out to the elements. Or when his hood and police lights were forcefully removed and thrown in to the pond.

Do something.

Do anything.

Just stop him.

Think.

The ground around him was littered with various pieces of him as Thundercracker paused in the beating and Barricade heard the mech above him charge his cannons to finish him off.

The throaty rumble of a diesel engine and the bellow of an air horn was all the warning he had as a fully loaded dump truck careened toward him.

Barricade scrambled as Thundercracker stared non-comprehending as the vehicle headed right for him.

On Cybertron, no one was stupid enough to charge a seeker like this. It would of been suicide.

Of course Thundercracker needed to remember he wasn't on Cybertron anymore and that humans were moronically brave, or just plain stupid.

The red dump truck plowed in to the F-22, pushing the jet in to the pond with a titanic splash. Covering the seeker with its load of mulch at the sudden stop before submerging all the way up to the roof of the cab.

Thundercracker, considerably more dented and pissed then before, screamed his rage and took aim at the truck. Blasting it with a single EMP pulse that also enlarged the pond by quite a bit. Kicking the trucks burned out husk out of his way the seeker focused on the flailing organic life form that was trying to swim away in the thick, mulchy water.

Barricade rerouted as much power as his could to his weapon system and managed to unsheathe his plasma blade. It wasn't much, but it was better then nothing and it would be a cold orn in the pit before he let a virus infested organic fight along side him.

Even half off-line, he had to maintain his standards.

The blade mounted on his wrist crackled with blue static and Barricade climbed to his feet. Joints protesting and several circuits flat out refusing. One optic dark and the other fractured as energon poured out of the great rents in his armor to stain the ground. Thundercracker's weapon chirred sounding it completion of recharge and the towering seeker leveled his arm at the human.

Now.

Barricade charged the blurred form of the jet.

He was made for close quarters fighting.

He knew where to hit.

He could never match a seeker in terms of shear firepower, so he made up for it in precision and skill. It was how he not only survived, but excelled in the war.

He skimmed the bottom of the outstretched arm cutting the power feed to the weapon as he drove his blade in to a gap in Thundercrackers chest armor.

He really didn't like the resounding crack sound he made when Thundercracker threw him against the bridge and he bounced off a millisecond later.

The murky pond water biting at his excruciatingly open circuits as the seeker roared and thrashed, clawing at the energon flowing out of his chest. Then finally, after a short eternity, took off.

The water wasn't very deep, Barricade noticed. Probably do to the sudden vaporization that had happened when Thundercracker shot the truck, but the bottom was mucky.

And muck, stuck.

If fact it was stuck all the way up to ladysmans217's knees as the annoying human crawled out of the pond. Managing to cover his arms and the rest of him as well with the brown gook.

Thundercracker hadn't even manage to squish him.

How disappointing.

He tried to lift his head out of the mud and nearly screamed as his back erupted in arcing electricity from the exposed wires from where his doors were supposed to be attached. His processors were just about shorted out, offering no data and he could barely see.

He hurt.

A lot.

So he held still, for now. Once whatever damage had settled he should be able to move. Depending on the damage, since he wasn't even sure his regenerative program was functional. His internal screens would not on-line so he had no way to know.

Declining the persistent urge to slip in to stasis Barricade watched the bone bag sit down on the bank across from him. Wrapping his punny flesh covered arms around himself and shivered.

Pathetic humans.

All he did was drive a truck and try to not get shot.

A/N Ok, I don't like this chapter. It was flipping hard to keep it to Barricade's POV and thanks to Virus16623 I now know that Mustangs are rear wheel drive. I work on helicopters not cars so I'm a bit on the ignorant side when comes to car model specs like that. But I'm getting better… I think.

Ok, I'll stick to things that hover.

tomorrow4eva, thank you for the grammer corrections.

Thank you to all who review.


	4. of life and death

The lesser evil.

Chapter 4

Of life and death

Vibrant blue Energon bubbled out of the gashes in his exoskeletal armor. Staining the murky pond water a shimmering hue around his prone form. The police interceptor curled his clawed hand in the muck under him and attempted to lift himself from its treacherous grasp.

The small motion pulled on his damaged back servos, stinging bad enough for Barricade to abandon the attempt and he slumped back in to the goop with a disgusting squelch.

His intakes purged themselves of the heated air his crippled systems were unable to circulate in a whoosh that tapered off in to a whine. The sensors laid bare by his lack of door wings frizzed and arced in the rain, sending jolt after jolt of pain to his overwhelmed processor that could not buffer the mass of sensations.

He couldn't see out of his right optic to assess what damage covered his side and with his HUD completely non operational he couldn't access the input from his sensor nodes, or by the pit, even tell if he had any sensor nodes left.

But it wasn't over.

No.

The sounds of the bugs fight sill lingered in the air and the horrid humanoid pet sat watching him from the bank of the pond. The screech of impacting metal and the thoom of discharging thermal weapons echoed slightly under the bridge he had not so gently been thrown against. Barricade could feel bits and pieces of concrete wedged, jammed or otherwise lodged in to his chassis and he could hear as chunks of the bridge continued to fall around his feet.

He had to move, to retreat. The other Autobots would come to help their comrade and he was in no condition to fight. As much as it galled him to admit it.

At sound of jet engines igniting, he tried again to sit up, to get out of this fragging mud.

Again he pushed his weight on to his arms trying to raise his chest up. Things screeched as broken pieces mashed together, his servos growled and hissed their immense displeasure and just as the mud relinquished it hold on him, a stab of processor frizzing agony shot through him and he dropped.

Somehow he rebooted after the pain signals slacked. His awareness swarmed with pain and the sensation of mush seeping in to places normally occupied by energon.

Slagtasic.

Out of the corner of his still partly functioning optic, Barricade spotted the arch of energon spurting from his mid section.

Frag.

The main line would bleed out all his energon in less than 10 minutes if the system pressurized to facilitate motion. It would be nice to know which line it was but, alas, his main computer had already passed away with out waiting for him.

So, here he was. Face in the mud and unable to tell just what it was that was killing him.

Primus, I'll be seeing you soon and make sure Frenzy has the 300 credits he owes me ready when I get there.

His systems were powering down. No amount of rerouting could stop the decreasing thrum and whine of his components slowly failing as the energon that powered them, leaked out in to the miserable pond to be replaced with scum. Barricade turned his head to get his face out of the green goo, wincing from the pain in his back.

All that was left was time.

Time until he was found by either faction and killed.

Time until all his energon leaked out and he died on this miserable festering planet so far from home.

In a slagging grotesque pond at that.

He was to far gone and he didn't need his diagnostics program to tell him that. But he did prefer to not be found by the Autobots or Air morrons in stasis lock. That would have been… demeaning.

A warrior, a fighter like him, when found by the enemy should be doing everything possible to keep fighting till the end. And that did not include falling in to stasis because he hurt.

A small victory in a plethora of failure.

The sound of afterburners echoed under the bridge and the flora around him trembled as a jet hastily took off for parts unknown.

The ye olde retreat of a coward. Or Starscreams theme music as the ground pounders had dubbed the sound of fading jet engines. Not to much longer then, 'Warp would have stuck around if he had won.

Mostly to try and find a suitable trophy out of the wreckage of his victim.

A blip of motion by the shrubs grabbed his attention.

The human flesh bag removed a stick from the vicinity of his aft and threw it aside. And now was watching him.

Creepy.

If he could just squish him, if only to get him to stop staring at him.

The mud covered fleshling still sat shivering on the bank of the pit slagging pond that refused to let him go. Arms and legs plastered brown and how could the insect stand having that creature crawling around inside of him.

With or with out the mud coating.

Frenzy was bad enough, but a human.

Eeeewwwww.

Their skin produced oils that transferred to surfaces and they shed the hair substance that no longer had a viable function. All of which would end up inside him if he transformed after having a pest in his passenger seat.

The mustang shuttered, sending small energon ripples radiating out from his prone form.

A transistor frizzed and went off-line with a gurgle of finality at its thoughts about the movement and he stilled.

The sooner he died the sooner the pain stopped.

As least there was one thing he could look forward to.

A shadow fell over him and Barricade wrenched around so he could see what caused it. Inwardly he groaned at the flash of singed yellow, outwardly he growled his annoyance.

His sensors must really be slagged to let the glitch riddled Autobot sneak up on him.

The insect raised his weapon at the downed Decepticon and all Barricade managed was a lurch that ended in a pained hiss and more mud in his servos.

No matter how damaged, even knowing he was one foot in to the matrix, did not mean he was going to just lay there and not put up a fight.

Against the Autobot as least, death he could accept.

Capture, never.

"The other Autobots are on their way."

The scratchy tenor voice betrayed the bugs youth and the war he had grown up with as the arm cannon never wavered.

"So shoot me."

Die now, or die later. Either way, the result was the same and he preferred it on his own terms.

The Camaro cocked his head and retracted his battle mask. Slowly the insect lowered his arm.

No

NO

NO!

What was it with these fraggers that they just didn't understand?

What was there left for him?

Why prolong the inevitable?

He was Starscreams impromptu fall mech, so let him fall.

"Just shoot."

He growled it out, pain and anger tainting the words.

Bumblebee wordlessly raised his blue glowing arm cannon again. Still heated from the battle with Skywarp, judging from the tendrils of steam that rose off it.

Barricade did not clench or brace, he watched. He would meet his death with his optics online and would not cower away.

Moments passed, and still no reunion with Primus.

It didn't take an upgraded processing unit to understand. His own companions attacked him, tried to kill him, basically did kill him and there was no way that he was going to side with the Autobots.

Besides, he wasn't going to last that long.

If the pit slagging fragtard wanted to watch him slowly leak to death then that was his prerogative.

But he was a warrior, a fighter and he wanted to go in a blaze of glory. Not slowly taper off as his energon fled his systems.

The insect's cannon never wavered, but it never discharged either.

Stupid, fragging aft headed, outdated pit spawn of a crashed CPU.

TAKE THE HINT AND SHOOT.

Still nothing.

The fleshling sat watching at the gnat's ankle and if the bug wasn't going to shoot him by his own will, then he would give him no choice.

Barricade forced his clawed hand under him and drew his legs up so he was crouching in the muck. Back screaming unspeakable curses at him as energon poured liberally from his sides.

Bee powered up his gun as the human scrambled to his puny feet and tripped over some bushes as he tried to back away.

Now or never, the agony was going to force him to reboot.

In one fell swoop Barricade forced his legs to expel his battered frame towards the 'Bot and his charge. The mud slurping its surprise as its captive escaped and the human screaming cut short as Barricade's wild lunge slammed Sam in to the bridge skirting.

His audios picked up the crack of internal structural failure in the meat stick before he was wholly consumed by arcs of failing circuits as he, himself collided with the ground with a yellow foot on his back. The crackling the only thing he could hear as his systems shut down and slowly, the few remaining programs rebooted moments later.

Still there was no blast, no end to this pain that refused to slack.

His shoulder pressed against one of the bridges support pylons with his face in the bushes that failed miserably at trying to hit it.

The flesh creature crawled out from the murk under the bridge cradling his arm.

Slag, why wouldn't it just die already? The damn thing was like an interstellar cockroach.

"Sam, your arm is broken. Do you need to go to the hospital now or can you wait for Ratchet?"

The voice was somewhere over his left shoulder, out of immediate clawing range and at an angle he couldn't lunge at.

"I- I can wait for Ratchet. What's going to happen to him?"

Barricade kicked out, foot clipping something he couldn't see as he shook the foot from his enraged back and rolled so he was face up and back against the bridge support column.

"Shit, shit, shit."

The fleshling ran for cover and Bumblebee backed up a step, gun at the ready.

Pathetic Autobot gnat. Doesn't want to kill an injured mech. If he wouldn't kill him after attacking his pet then the fragger wasn't planning on pulling the trigger at all.

Barricade looked down as his hand twitched in time with the arcs coursing over his processor. The soft glow of his exposed power feed lines on his legs flickered, then cut out.

Maybe the insect knew what he was doing and just wanted him to suffer.

But that would be giving the bug to much credit. He could feel the vibrations of the larger Autobots approach, the gnat was just waiting for his friends.

The mustang picked up the sound of transformation from up on the bridge and a large cannon was promptly shoved in to his face.

"One move punk and your aft's to see yer creator."

It was instantaneous; he slapped the cannon away and was slammed in to the cement guarder by the cannons twin.

He wasn't sure how long he was out, but slowly his programs on-lined.

Oh that's right, he had declined stasis and his main computer died before he could change the command back to the default.

So he was going to be continually rebooted awake until he keeled over, what fun.

He was slumped over in an awkward position that pulled on his protesting back. Back still to the bridge supports as he felt the energon draining from his tanks and lines, dribbling out his life.

"They called him a traitor Optimus."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Do not do it bug.

Kill me.

Torture me.

DO NOT DEFEND ME.

What ever side you are on, I am not.

I like it that way; I want to keep it that way.

"That doesn't mean he is not a threat to us or to humanity."

Thank you, big guy.

"But it also doesn't mean we should just leave him to off line like this."

Yes… It does.

"Who say's we'd just leave him? We should blast em and get it over with."

Never thought I would agree with you, but hay, whose gona know.

The police interceptor could just make out the hulking black mech through the branches of the bush his helm rested in. As Ironhide leveled his mighty cannon at him, Barricade let out what was left of his uncirculated air.

Finally.

"No Ironhide, Bumblebee is right. If he is a traitor to the Decepticons then we have a moral obligation to assist him."

Barricade thought he was going to purge his tanks. That would be why he was a Decepticon, no moral dilemmas such as this because they did not have morals.

"WHAT! Optimus look at him. He's just about dead already and what of all of yer friends that he's sent to the matrix. He deserves to off-line permanently for all he's done."

Hydraulic support systems failed and the police interceptor crumbled the rest of the way to the ground.

"Yes, but he did assist Bumblebee against the other Decepticons. We should at least find out the motivation for the action. Ratchet, attend him while we arrange transport."

AGGG.

It was echoed considerably more vocally by the Topkick who slunk off out of his crippled vision range. His spark pounded in his cranial unit making it hard to think as his claws balled in to fists. There was just instinct and rage left. Rage that they would take even this from him.

Kill me.

Let me die.

I DON"T WANT YOUR HELP.

Its my choice. My life, my death.

The medic approached slowly and the mustang felt the warmth of the scanners running over him. The burning rage intensified, they were really going to save him.

His hand twitched again, he had never retracted his arm blade after attacking Thundercracker. Although it no longer had the plasma energy flowing over it, it was still a sharp pointed chunk of metal. Ratchet crouched next to him, hands converted in to tools of the medical trade as he felt the medic staunch the flow of energon from the largest of his wounds.

In truth, he didn't know how he managed to get his arm to move. Only that he succeeded in jabbing the blade in to the Hummers knee joint.

There was a yelp of pain and an impressive curse as the hands pulled away from his internals.

"Don't help me, kill me or let me die."

To the medics credit, Ratchet silently pulled the blade from his joint and let the arm that contained the blade fall to the ground.

"See Optimus, he doesn't even want to be helped."

Ironhide loomed over the medic, cannons charged and crosshairs lined up.

Energon welled up out of his vocalizer from one of his myriad of crushed components and his optics lost focus at his weapon systems were manually deactivated.

There was a hand on his shoulder, prying open a crumbled panel then blessed darkness rose up to embrace him.

A/N In case you were wondering, yes I fell off the face of the planet. Thanks to a ball of string, 3 paper clips, some used staples and a MacGyver marathon to show me how, I am now safely back.

Thank you to those who review.

Edited 30 July 2009.


	5. choice

The lesser evil.

Chapter 5

Choices

Light shown from one of the consoles across the room. The reds and greens meshed and mashed to make blues and yellows then blinked out, then in again in a different hue. Barricade wasn't sure how long he spent watching the monitor that displayed his spark output in vibrant pulsing colors, but it was the first thing that came in to focus.

His main CPU booted with a long beep and the logic that he was not standing before Primus fired into his processor.

Slaggging fragtarded pit spawn Autobots and their over developed, glitch ridden morals.

Couldn't just let him off line, could they.

Nooooo.

The monitor chirruped as it registered the increase in his spark activity and the screen blossomed a pungent orange.

Frag them.

All of them.

Especially the squishy ones.

The monitor chimed as a streak of red blossomed out of the expanse of orange.

The interceptor glared at the screen which blinked baleful red right back at him.

Frag.

Stay calm, think. Don't give anything away. The Autobots will be around.

Oh, yes, this is probably their base, of course they would be around.

Hay I found it for you, Starscream. Can I go back to not being shot at by Decepticons now.

The beaten police interceptors fist twitched as the screen returned to the molten primary colors.

Starscream was a fool.

A big, flying idiot. That's what the ingrate was, is and always will be.

That's why the Decepticons went to such great lengths to find Megatron.

Megatron was a leader, it was his drive, his goals that pushed the Decepticon forces forward to glory.

Not some simpering seeker who only wanted the power and glory with minimal effort on his part. Standing in the shadows to strike out only when it was opportune to do so, more often to put a blade in someone's back then to fight the enemy.

Megatron did not cower or hide behind others, he did.

And you either took up his cause, or you were one of the carcasses he stepped over.

Everyone knew that, it was that simple.

He was respected for it. We knew where we stood and that stepping out of our designated place meant a fusion cannon blast to the head. Starscream was not satisfied with his place and the arrogant jet did nothing to hide his contempt for those in power over him.

Barricade smothered the growl at the thought of Starscream's optics gleaming triumphantly as Megatron disappeared off the sensor arrays. Just like the former Air Commander had disappeared conveniently opening a position for the Screamer. Not that anyone questioned it at the time.

In the vorn after Megatrons disappearance Shockwave flat out refused to follow the seeker who proclaimed himself leader and Soundwave seconded the notion. With the bulk of the forces standing behind the two competent mechs. Only the Air wing disagreed but they were soundly out numbered. Not that it was a Democracy and a vote was held or anything. There were significantly more guns pointed at the fliers then there were pointed at Soundwave and Shockwave.

Barricade powered down his optics, and listened as his de-clawed hand scratched the metal berth he lay upon. They should have shot the seekers then and there. Screw having the tactical advantage of air superiority or what ever other slag the Seeker spewed to save his aft. It was common knowledge that the glitch-tard was simply biding his time.

Hence why Soundwave had asked him to accompany the slag sucker who insisted on leading this endeavor. To keep the fragger from doing something untoward if he happened to find Megatron or the AllSpark, or both.

And that's what it all came down to.

The slag sucker was going for the coup d'etat and would spare no one in his quest.

Frenzy, Blackout, Brawl, and Bonecrusher had been killed, like he was supposed to be killed.

To cover his plot and make it look like Megatron failed because of having been set up by me apparently.

The berths metal squealed under his fingers and his optics clicked on.

HOW DARE HE!

The monitor chimed and Barricade growled as the screen danced blood red with streams of purple.

Clam down.

Clam down.

Clam down.

Don't give them a reason to come look in on you.

Goooshabaaaaa.

Frag you Frenzy, it didn't work.

Movement registered out of his still blurry right optic and he flinched out of habit, or tried to. His arms and legs felt heavy, too heavy. The mustang's freshly restarted sensors didn't detect restrains and his neck bluntly refused to move more then 8 degrees in any direction, preventing an optical check.

They wouldn't just leave him un-secured, they weren't that stupid.

Systematically he started to twitch. Testing the limits of his mobility and not liking how little he had.

Crap.

He couldn't even lift his arms off the berth to defend himself.

Slag.

He shifted as he lay practically helpless on his side. The console blossomed again in what he noticed was a dim room then started to churrip in alarm.

Oh frag me.

A blurry form moved from barely within his compromised optic range and he stilled.

The foot falls heading straight for him accompanied by a large green-ish - black-ish blur.

"Playing dead won't help you."

It was the medic from the octave of the vocalizer not that it made it any better.

"I didn't want to play."

A shadow fell over him, cast, no doubt from the muted lighting hanging from the ceiling directly above the raised birth he lay on.

"You almost didn't."

His clawless hands clenched despite the overall lack of feeling plaguing his processor. The medic stood directly behind him and Barricade winced as his compromised battle programs tried to execute their directive to get him to twist about and punch the fragger in the bright blue optics to get him out of that location.

Don't waist RAM on it, focus on something else.

Anything else.

All the battered mustang could see was the bank of monitoring equipment directly in front of him. How the pungent orange shifted to a crisp red and back again. There was a shadow of something else at the very top of his skewed vision range, but he couldn't move his helm back enough to actually see it.

May all Autobots be disassembled slowly and rust in the pit.

Something squeaked and he lurched.

It was a panel that had made the noise.

His panel, on his back.

There was a clang and scrap and he jerked again.

"I know you can't feel that."

Barricade growled.

If he still had claws they would be carving chunks out of the metal of the berth.

There was a twinge and his ventilation systems kicked in. The soft gusts of air cooling his inner workings that he hadn't even noticed how heated they were.

"That should help to lower your core temperature."

His panel squeaked again as it was closed and even anticipating the sound, he tensed.

The bulky mech stepped around the berth and back in to his optic range as he wiped his hands on something the interceptor could not discern.

If this was some sort of Auto scum mental torture, it was working.

He couldn't pick out enough detail to tell if the medic was facing him or not, it was just a hazy mess of color.

And if anything it set him even more on edge.

Here he was, prisoner, unable to move and without properly functioning optics to see what form of pain they were going to inflict upon him to get him to talk.

Ha!

Like they could do anything new.

Try interfacing with Blackout. That always left the victim in stasis lock for a few weeks while the medi-drones sorted out the pieces.

The medic was doing something. Right in front of his fragging face and he didn't have a slagging idea what it was.

What sort of horrific device was the greenish blur preparing? He was a medic, a real knows-your-innards-better-then-you medic. This was going to hurt. Then he'd be fixed, then hurt some more.

His grip on the metal berth tightened.

He would endure this.

It was only pain.

The medic moved closer, something long and shining in his hand.

Only pain. Nothing new.

Don't panic, brace.

Wince and take it. Its only pain.

Don't give them anything. Any reaction, any indication that their affecting you. Nothing.

It's only pain, it will end eventually.

The glowing blue pricks of light grew closer as his torturer leaned in towards him.

Barricade choked on the growl in his throat as a hand repositioned his face so the no longer muted lights blared right into his malfunctioning optics.

What the frag was going to happen to him? No one would come to get him out of here. They all thought he was the reason Megatron's dead.

Don't think about it.

The green-ish hand holding his jaw shifted so there was pressure on the guard between his optics and the shining whatever-the-slag-it-was took up his range of vision.

It's just pain.

Nothing you haven't felt before.

Only pain.

Only- PRIMUS FRAGGING COLD!

His optics off-lined as the motor and dermal sensors in his face froze.

But it didn't hurt.

Not a bit.

It was disconcerting, most defiantly.

Was this the best they had?

Weak.

There was a clink of metal meeting metal and he flinched.

Slag, he really needed to rewrite that battle program.

The Autobot was doing something again.

What?

Frag it. It was worse now that he couldn't see a damn thing.

"Try to on-line you optics."

The cold had faded and as if on queue the subroutines prompted him to reboot his visual program.

Not that his HUD worked, nope that was still scrap. But the verbal warning systems whispered again in his audio.

Running through the impressive list of non functioning systems and most, cancel that, all non critical systems were still offline.

… slag.

He started the reboot.

If he was going to get ripped apart he at least wanted to be able to see the one responsible.

The green-yellow -black blob of a mech fuzzed in then out as his optics recalibrated themselves. Individual lines and colors leapt out at him, painfully searing themselves in to his optic receptors and the Autoscum medic reached up, dimming the overhead lights again.

On impulse he ran an abbreviated diagnostic and grimaced in confusion as the results were whispered to him. All four of his optics had been replaced, along with most of the wiring and the main power relay for the right ones.

Why?

Did they want him to watch as they ripped him apart trying to get information out of him?

The quite was shattered as a small engine roared to life in the med bay. Echoing in what the police cruiser realized was a much bigger space then he had originally thought. The battered black and white could not stop the cringe that overtook him as the engine pulled open what sounded like massive doors.

Then closed them.

As the noise of the door abated with a shuddering crash of finality, he could make out heavy footfalls walking towards him.

Either the old hard aft or the boss bot.

The insect was to small and to well trained in infiltration to make that kind of noise.

If his shoulder mounted external sensor array was still functioning… or still attached, he would have been able to tell which one it was.

"Ratchet, what's his status?"

"He's online, Optimus. I must say they did a fine job slagging one of there own."

Great it's the big one.

The green mech tossed the rag he had been using to clean various tools with in to a low bin and stepped away from the monitoring equipment. Walking out of sight as he circled the berth to get behind him.

There was a clang and he tensed.

Primus he hated this.

Did they know how much he hated have mechs behind him? It was like an open invitation to stab him in the back. That was the reason he wrote that program in the first place.

There was the squeak of his panel again and he twitched.

The medic was correct, he couldn't feel a thing, but he heard the hands moving on his cabling. Pushing some aside so that it scraped against… what was right there to scrap against?

Fuel pump?

No that was lower.

A hiss and the unmistakable odor of solder wafted up at him. Barricade cringed and watched how his spark pulse jumped around on the screen in front of him.

All at once his HUD lit up, displaying everything it possibly could, then flicked and fell off line.

What the slag?

Why fix his HUD?

The warning voice was annoying but it did its job, there was no reason for the continued repairs.

His internal display flashed and slowly reintegrated itself so it wouldn't be so obtrusive.

Hmmm he was running close to 40 degrees to hot.

He turned his ventilating system to high and flinched as the panel on his back closed.

The green mech stalked in front of him and Barricade snarled as a hand reached out and grabbed his face again.

Turning him this way and that as he glared death.

"Good. Your systems integrated the new optics, any blurry spots? Zoom functioning properly?"

"Frag off."

There was a soft groan of shifting metal from behind and Barricade clenched.

Prime was still here, waiting, watching, for what?

The hands placed his head back on the berth and the police interceptor growled at the look the medic cast at him.

He was being analyzed.

Rusted out slag filled hulk of scrap festering on Unicrons side plate.

The medic tilted his head slightly as he spoke over a com frequency and Barricade growled as the large Autoscum leader stepped around the berth and into his line of sight.

At least he knew where the fragger was now.

Big red stood farther back then the green medic bot with his arms across his chest conveying his distaste of the situation.

Good, I would of purged if the slagtard had came in all 'let's be friends' like.

"Barricade, both your main support infrastructure pylons have been severed with multiple components crushed or otherwise damaged, topped with severe energon contamination from your stay in the pond."

The doc crossed his arms and Barricade returned the glare the medic shot at him.

The entire spiel reeked of formality and the muscle car suspected it was to inform the Prime of his status as well.

It didn't make it true.

Barricade fired up what diagnostics programs still worked and glared at the confirmation of the medics words.

Frag them.

He couldn't even get a proper report about the damage to his back and most of the incoming data from below his waist was corrupted.

Slag slag slag.

He couldn't transform or even walk like this.

There went all plans of escape.

His fists clenched and he steadied his baleful glare onto Optimus Prime.

He was a class 5, damaged beyond economical repair. His fellow Decepticons would have already terminated him and would be squabbling over his gear and what wasn't immediately taken would be given to medi-drones for replacement parts.

Was this the Auto-snots version of official notification?

Why would they fix his ventilation systems, optics and HUD if they were going to scrap him for parts?

Were they doing this to spite him? Because he had wanted to die, they wouldn't let him?

The boss bot stepped forward and clasped the medic on the shoulder. With a nod the green mech retreated and busied himself out of the confused cop cars optics.

"Barricade, why did Thundercracker and Skywarp attack you?"

So it starts.

He growled and glared at the tall mech before him.

They would get nothing out of him.

Time passed, his chrono was still fraged up so he didn't know how much but a fair amount by his own guess. The Prime raised his hand and he braced, growling when the big guy place his hand on the side of his face in a contemplative gesture and vented a gust of heated air.

"I am not going to strike you."

Gag.

Then how did he think he was going to get any information out of him?

"Nor am I going to permit a known Decepticon free rein over my base. You are aware of your medical status as a class 5 triage, yes? Good. If you wish us to grant you asylum we will continue repairs on the stipulation that you provide proof that this is not some moronic scheme of Starscreams. Otherwise we are willing to grant you prior request to let you die, and Ratchet will get the answers out of your processor before we dispose of your corpse."

Oh pit slaging hell.

The fragging medic could plunder his memories and all the other vital data his processor handled and controlled. But accepting asylum would be proving Starscream correct that he was a traitor and he would never be accepted back in the Decepticon forces.

"So what is your choice?"

He growled, curled his fists and fought the all encompassing lethargy crippling his systems. Both his spinal supports were snapped, balancing gyros off-line and it took more then he wanted to admit to lift his chest piece from the metal berth. And it took even more to sit up and look in to the scrutinizing optics of the Autobot leader.

He gasped, growled and struggled to keep his helm from tilting over and resting on his crunched shoulder mount as he continued to glare.

"Neither."

Edited 30 July 2009


	6. Freedom is?

Lesser evils

Chapter 6

Freedom is?

* * *

Silence gripped the med-bay as the Saleen Mustang and the mighty leader of the Autobots exchanged pointed looks over the single word.

Barricade clenched against the nearly overwhelming lethargy , wobbling and shifting so he would not topple over as he continued to glare murder at the unmasked face of his worst enemy.

He flinched and growled as a hand reached out and applied enough pressure to his shoulder to return him to the berth. Unable to resist against the unresponsiveness plaguing him as he sank down with a snarl. Snarl shifting in to pained squeak as his back connected with the metal of the berth and his damaged supports were twisted out of place by his own weight. The Prime pulled him forward, off the damaged parts and removed his hand once the car was steady.

"Your point has been made Barricade."

The motional inhibitor the blasted medic had applied to his battered body forced him in to a near stasis lock state as soon as he stopped fighting it and let it curb the pain. The room blanked out and slowly fuzzed back in. Big red still looking contemplatively down on him.

What now?

His spinal supports were snapped, it wasn't like he could get away.

Barricade looked away, focusing on the green medi-bot organizing shelves of Primus knows what. Refusing to return his optics to the large mech in front of him.

Why would they do this this to him?

The doc-bot was to good to not have judged the severity of his wounds before removing him from the fragging golf course.

Did they expect him to ask for asylum?

They were pathetic, ignorant, clueless, moronic and more things then he had insults for if they expected him to swap sides like that.

"Loyalty is not something the Decepticons are known for."

He clenched.

The motional inhibitor forced him back to limp within nano-clicks.

It was true.

Most followed out of fear and were to tainted by the time an opportunity to leave arose. There was something about gutting an opponent and not just feeling the heated energon run down your hands, but to smell it. To see the fear and pain in optics moments before they faded out that warped you. Sometimes into mindless monsters that could never get enough like Brawl or what ever it was he had called himself. Sometimes it made you cold, calculating, ensuring that it would never happen to you yet dishing it out like it was your primary function. Some fell in love with the power. And when did you have more power then when you literally had a bots spark in your claws?

That was the most power the majority of the Decepticons warriors ever got and when it came down to it, very few were loyal to anything other then their own battle lust.

"Still, Barricade, there were only two options. Since I do believe you just refused asylum, I have to conclude that this is something Starscream came up with."

He winced, there was something in how he said it. The finality, the depth and utter truth. How he made it seem like what ever Starscream did was the scummiest scum of the universe and now he was scum by association.

"That just leaves the final question, Barricade."

… if the fragtards had just left me at the golf course it would have already solved itself.

And it hadn't been so much a question as a statement.

"Do you still wish to end your existence?"

Now it was a question.

Die non-violently and give them all the information needed to end the Decepticon empire. A well placed bomb at the upcoming fight for leadership was all it would take, really.

Or.

Live for how ever long it took for them to either let me die on my own or torture the information out of me. Hopefully giving me the time to purge my hard drive before option 2, leaving me mindless for the duration so I cannot give over any of the information.

If he could just get a message out to Soundwave or Shockwave before Starscream moved forward with his plans then this wouldn't be so hard.

Fragit all, dead mechs cannot compose messages.

"No."

An optic ridge raised.

"No?"

The crumpled car glared up at the tall mech and growled.

"No, I do not want to die."

He was loyal, no mater how rare the trait was in his comrades. He would not let Sound / Shock wave be ambushed and let the Decepticons be driven to a obscenely horrible end by the miserable leadership of the Screamer.

Not even the gelatinous based life forms of this planet deserved such an end.

Swishing them was a much better option.

"Hmmm. Why the sudden change of spark? Your not the kind of mech to fear death, as you've already proven."

The Prime was standing in his thinking pose again. Sharp optics tuned to Barricades every twitch that made the interceptor want to commit mass genocide in the continuing silence.

Get on with it already!

I'm a rusting hunk of slag stuck to your festering skid plate.

DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!

The Autobot leader dropped his hand to his side and pulled himself to his full height.

Like you could intimidate me, you slag sucker.

Megatron was much, much better at it.

"Despite your objections, you are a class 5 triage. As a hostile prisoner, as you agreed you are, termination is the proper course of action."

He sneered, he knew this game.

"But you won't kill me."

It was meant to keep him off guard so he would let some info slip, but he was no mental pushover and this was one of his favorite games. Although he preferred to be the interrogator.

"Why do you say that? Do not mistake kindness for weakness."

It was the patronizing tone. It was the same one his creator used after he'd gone and did something stupid and needed an appendage reattached. It made him feel like he had to explain. To prove he wasn't in the wrong even though there had never been a wrong.

The cop car squashed the urge, this was a game of few words and big meanings. And it was obvious the Auto-scum was a versed player of the game as well.

"Kindness would have let me die already."

There was a little glint in the blue optics, the big guy must of realized he was playing.

Good, bring it.

If he was going to be stuck immobilized at least he could fight in a battle of wit and words. The last time he had a good bout was when Blacko… don't go there, concentrate.

"I fear we have differing views on kindness."

To say the least, skid licker.

"You wont kill me. Or you already would have."

That got his attention, the full, overbearing, scrutinizing attention of the Autobot leader. That was more confirmation than any set of words could have been.

Point to him.

"Yes, we made the choice long before we let you come out of stasis."

Ohhh, nice one. Remind him of his current position of vulnerability.

"Do you know why?"

Slag. What would be a response to that?

"Because you are weak."

There was a smirk and Barricade kicked himself. Sinking to the "because you suck" category was hardly original.

Score 1:1.

Come on he could do this. It might have been awhile since he had a good battle of sarcasm and witticisms but the skill never left. It was just a mater of re-finding his groove.

"No Barricade, because there are so few of us. Cybertronian's in general, not just Autobots or Decepticons."

Oooo kkkkk, where did this come from.

There was a concerned look on the leaders face and Barricade quickly looked at the console behind the mech. The colors blending and mixing as the Prime continued.

Leaders should not care. It was disgusting when one even pretended to.

There was whirr as dented internal cooling fans idled. He was still running 10 degrees to hot.

"Barricade."

The depth of how his designation was articulated made his optics return to the tall mech.

"Before the war there were somewhere nearly 12.345 billion of us, drones, mini-bots, standard and supreme sized mechs. Now, Barricade, there are only 189 of us and yes that includes a fairly accurate count of the Decepticons. Now that the All spark has been destroyed, how are we going to continue as a species? We have the bodies of the fallen, but without the All spark we have no way to repair and re-animate them. You are a high enough ranked officer to know of the failed femm project. We, not just the Autobots, are dying out. Each time a Cybertronian passes into the matrix we are that much closer to extinction."

The silence was profound. Nowhere in his vast knowledge of insults and comebacks was there a response for this. He did know of the femm project and its failure. It proved that the All spark was the only way to produce a new spark, despite the machinations of scientists.

And Starscream wanted to go and incite a uprising, getting even more of them killed. The ingrate.

Soundwave and Shockwave knew the numbers, they must known that with out the Allspark we are on the brink of oblivion. They must of known of the up most importance of recovering the Allspark and Megatron.

And Starscream had damned them all.

The fragging flyer was the one who was supposed to intercept the Allspark. Instead he let it go and Megatron, who grasped the situation, went after it.

Why, why , why did he obey the Seekers order to break away after Bonecrusher engaged Prime? He ended up late for the entire shebang. Blackout was the one to point out the Jets betrayal and was able to recover enough to engage. He did not have the ability to fly and ended up watching the final moments of the Decepticon's true leader and apparently the death of their species from a congested over pass.

It had been Blackout who told him to not engage. To not let the only survivor be the slagtastic seeker.

That was what he wanted.

That was what he thought he now had. No one to contest his version of what happened.

No, he did not want to die, he was going to live long enough to damn that glitching flying metal chicken.

He growled, bending the metal of his berth under his grasp as the out put screen flared red and purple.

Now he really had to get word to Soundwave. If he didn't then the Autobots would win by default just because Starscream would have killed all the Decepticons able to plan a battle, or even capable enough to fight in one.

The small motor fired up and he lurched at the sudden onslaught of echoing noise as it opened the door.

The foot falls where light, but obvious…so they were not the insects.

Someone new then.

They slowed as whoever- it- was passed the gray whatever-it- was on the wall that he still could not get a look at. Now, not because he couldn't see, but because the Primes big blue aft was in the way.

"Prime, if you are finished here. There are some important maters needing your attention."

Right, he wasn't important, just the crippled Decepticon they were going to let live in their basement because they felt morally responsible for keep the species from dieing out any faster than it should.

And did he HAVE to stand right behind him.

Barricade twitched in annoyance then snarled and jerked back as Prime moved.

Stupid fragging battle program, sure it saved his aft a few times, but this was down right embarrassing.

Big Red had stilled and was looking down at him, surly the other bot was doing the same.

Way to announce your weak spots.

"Prowl, I'm just about done here. Can this wait for a few more minutes?"

Oh wonderful, the tactician had already arrived. The only mech ever made that could out plan Shockwave. His chances were plummeting with each astro second.

"Unfortunately, no. Some of our more… rambunctious troops went to intercept the inbound Decepticons, without authorization and without knowing that the Seekers are not only inbound as well, but will arrive before them."

There was a classic sigh of frustration and the mighty leader of the Autobots stepped away and out of Barricade's view. Two sets of foot falls leading away at a slight angle, 6 steps for the big and 10 for the smaller.

"Ratchet, please brief Barricade on what will happen and prepare for casualties."

2 more big footfalls and 5 more little footfalls before the door motor engaged drowning out all other sounds.

It was about 75 feet from his present location to the motor driven door. If he was any measure of stride, and yes he was.

The three inbound Decepticons didn't know they would be landing in the middle of a battle. Not that it would mater, if Primes little speech was true and from everything he knew, it was. Then the big boss bot would do his best to prevent any casualties on either side.

Oh the horror of nobility, you didn't get to have any fun.

No wonder his own troops were itching for a fight.

There was a sharp clang as a spanner wrench landed mere millimeters from his face.

"Are you listening? Obviously not, you rusting hunk of scrap."

He glared at the medic, who glared right back.

"I don't repair anyone who can't figure out that I mean what I say. So when I say don't fragging move, DON'T FRAGGING MOVE!"

The spanner wrench was hastily grabbed and tucked away.

"Now, seeing that I have your attention. Don't move."

The large green mech reached inside Barricades open chest plate and removed a small electronic device with a flick of his wrist.

All at once the motional inhibitors effects ceased and the sudden rush of pain made the Mustang screech in agony as the neural inhibitor built into it, came out as well. He arched his back then tried to double up. Fighting to get his bottom half to move in time with the top to find a position that didn't hurt so damn much.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO MOVE!"

Oh Primus they are going to torture me after all.

He was grabbed and yanked and somehow held down until the surge died off to a dull throb.

Air pulsed through his vents in great gusts as the medic fiddled with the inhibitor and returned it to his chest.

The throb faded, not all the way but enough for him to relax and still have a smidgen more mobility then before.

"Your top halve is only connected to your bottom by wiring and cabling. Moving will just make your innards grind together in a pathetic attempt to support you weight."

Now he tells me.

"Make a fist."

"Eat slag."

Out of nowhere the spanner wrench collided with his cranium. The inhibitor deadend the pain, but it still stung.

"Make A Fist."

What kind of medic was this? Was he torturing him or treating him?

"Eat Slag."

Barricade reached out and stopped the spanner wrench from impacting his head. Arm trembling from the conflicting signals and with no strength behind it as his clawless fingers wrapped loosely around the medics wrist.

He growled at the medi-bot who was engrossed in running scans.

"Try it with your other hand."

He snarled.

"What The Frag?"

The doc-bot snarled this time.

"This is what the FRAG is about."

The green mech grabbed his left arm, pulling it out so that it hung out over the berth's edge and pressed the wrench in to his palm. As soon as the medic let go his wrist fell, hitting the berth and the wrench clattered to the floor.

He really wanted to beat the medic with it, slag it.

"Your _friends _did such a good job disassembling you, your still missing quite a bit of yourself and thanks to that _wonderful_ pond you _chose_ to rest in, the neural damage is even greater then the structural. The only way to find all the damage is to go through and figure out what works, and what doesn't. Otherwise we'll be chasing glitches for eons."

The green mech bent to grab the spanner wrench and Barricade ran the twitch mobility test. He could move a little more now but he couldn't move all of him. His bottom halve was still mostly non-functional and there seemed to be quite a few lines connected to his internals via the open panels on his back. Life support, most likely.

No, they never did intend to grant his death wish.

The pit spawned, rust covered turbo rats.

So what where they going to do with him?

Surely they did not think he would stay down here for the rest of eternity.

And now that he had a slightly more functional scanner, it was down.

He was under ground, the humidity and atmospheric pressures indicated he was in a subterranean facility.

Jeeze they really stacked the deck against him. Probably Prowls doing.

The slagtard was always the cautious one.

"So what is going to happen to me?"

He shouldn't have asked, it showed his concern and could be used against him.

But he wanted to Know damn it.

"You will be repaired to an Operational status. Your weapons will be removed or rendered off-line"

No shit, Sherlock.

"Then what? I'm not an Autobot. I'm a prisoner at best."

The medic glared, he glared right back.

The green mech tightened his grip on the wrench and grabbed Barricades left arm that was still lacking its tire. Removing the disheveled armor panels until the damaged joint was exposed.

The outer bearing obviously fractured and starting to rust.

"You'll be given another choice."

What was this?

Some sort of deranged game show?

"What the in the name of the Pit is with all the Primus FRAGGING CHOICES? It's not like you Fragging rejects were going to let me die if I wanted to! YOU WOULD HAVE DONE IT ALREDY!"

The wrench smashed into his head again.

"ITS CALLED FREEDOM YOU UNGRATEFUL HEAP OF SLAG. IF YOUR JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE A MINDLESS DRONE I WILL MELT YOU DOWN AND SELL YOUR INTERNALS ON EBAY!"

The wrench came dangerously close to his face a few times and just as the word E-bay was uttered, the cop car lurched. His right arm shot out and grabbed the ambulance by the grill guard then pulled. The medic unbalanced and smashed him in the face hard enough with the wrench to dislodge it from his grip, sending it clattering to the floor as the Hummer reached out to steady him self on the berth.

When the doc-bot recoiled back, Barricade clung and threw what he could of his weight over the edge of the berth. Landing on the enraged medic as they fell to the floor and shouldered him in the face plates as the larger mech tried to move him. Grabbing on to the wiring exposed at the elbow joint on Ratchets throwing arm, he let the medic throw him off of him.

Taking the wiring with him.

The medic could curse, gloriously and profusely.

There was a few in there that he didn't even know.

Just what was a toaster and why would he want to interface with it?

The motor roared to life and a pissed off Iron aft grabbed him from where he dangled from the life support lines that where just short enough to keep him from face planting on the floor. It stung like acid having his weight supported by the connectors but the neural inhibitor killed most of the pain.

"Get Him Back On The Berth!"

The doc was removing the freeze shot from his own upper arm as it hung limply at his side. Then the green Hummer slammed it down on the tray of whats-its from when he was tinkering with Barricades optics.

The snarl died on the Decepticon's face as the rest of trays contents came in to view as trigger happy lifted him none to gently.

The tray had a disruptor with a large enough charge to destroy a Supreme class' spark.

His would have terminated instantly.

"Freedom is having the right to chose your fate, and yes, we would have respected your request."

Came the seething tone of one pissed off medic.

Laying prone again, the inhibitor kicked in and this time it did force him in to stasis.

* * *

Thank you to everyone that reviews.


	7. escape

Chapter 7

Lesser evils

Escape.

* * *

There was noise, lots of it. Making his compromised processor thrum unsteadily as it analyzed each individual sound as it fought for dominance in the cacophony. The unmistakable clang of wrench impacting cranium and curses galore assaulted the recharging mustang. There were groans and protests, followed by more profanity and the occasional bass rumble of a voice or a thrum of a energy weapon. At a particularly potent curse and loud clang, red optics blurrily clicked on-line.

He wasn't on the raised berth anymore, the Saleen was tucked into the far corner with his back to the wall.

Thank you for small mercy's because the med-bay was in chaos.

The iron aft had the yellow terror by the throat lines with his impressive weapons, powered and pointed at the red terror who stood bellowing at the doc-bot. The medic of course, was retuning the bellow with interest and stood with a soldering iron in hand ready to be flung or perhaps used on said red mech. Prowl stood just to the side of the charged weapon and was ordering everyone to stand down.

The fragger could be loud when he wanted to be.

Out voicing the combatants without screeching or even yelling really. He just increased volume until he was the only thing audible. Words issuing out from both vocalizer and onboard coms.

"CEASE IMEDATLY SIDESWIDE!"

Momentarily it was silent.

"BUT, HE STARTE…"

"STOP NOW OR I WILL IGNORE THE SOUND OF IRONHIDES CANNONS."

The mustangs optic ridge rose. Why stop the fight? It was looking rather interesting.

2 vs.2 arena style.

Ironaft and Doc-bot vs. the terrible two. It was sure to be a good one.

Well, it would entertain him at least.

And damage/deactivation to any of the Auto scum was a good outcome.

The red one growled and looked away… was that pouting? Disgusting.

"Good. Now Ironhide, deactivate your weapons and when Sunstreaker stops trying to kill you, release him."

Aaaaawwwwww. Non-violent endings sucked.

There were a few grumbles and low frequency threats but the large black Autobot eased his hold of the smaller yellow one's neck.

"You Scratched My Paint!"

The thrum of pulse cannon accompanied by a snarl erupted from iron aft.

"I'm about to do more then scratch it. Punk."

"Stand Down! The both of you!"

It was inconceivable. The twin terrors that razed entire decpticon forces were oversized glitches, more like the newly minted then feared warriors. Acting like they were to young to have a social chip activation code. The irony of it. The countless mechs he had seen dismantled on the battlefield by either of the two and this was what the red and yellow mechs acted like at their home base.

Pathetic.

The mustang shifted his weight to get pressure off his side that was starting to hurt and overcorrected from the weight of the life support lines still connected to his back.

The sound of his metal shoulder mounts rubbing on the concrete was followed by silence so thick Barricade had to pause mid pained curse.

They were all looking at him.

10 blue optics, all glaring at him and he growled low in his vocalizer. The Decepticons called it a pack mentality. It was why Megaton grouped mechs up like he did. One would start something, usually violence and the others would feed off the first and get caught up in it. It was how crowds turned into mobs and how Motermaster managed to get his rejects to fight at all. Do what the group douse and your safe.

Unless the pack is loosed upon you.

Then your dead.

He growled again, low and threatening as he pushed himself closer to the wall.

All traces of pout or arrogance on the twins had been replaced with cold calculating optics that burned near white with rage. Trigger-happy's guns started to whirl as they heated and the medics wrist converted into a horrendous looking tool.

And the pack was closing in on him.

His sensors picked up the minor shifts of weight and he watched as the terror's stance changed, balanced and prepared to strike. The soft thrum as Iron-afts cannons came to full power reached him alongside the sound of blades locking in to place along the twins arms.

"Get out."

The twins smiled, their optics molten suns as they, as one crouched.

Barricade winced. He was ready for the snap forward, for the whirl of blades and the burn of plasma weapon and the sprouting of engeron from places it shouldn't sprout.

It didn't come.

Prowl had a pulse blade to each of the terrors throats as he stood between them. Hard-aft stood in front of them, blocking the charge of the red one as the medic blocked the yellow.

Why?

"You should have taken Ratchets advice and left."

The set of warriors didn't move from their positions, or move at all with the glowing blade pressing at their necks.

He didn't understand.

"Now Ironhide, please escort them to my office for further discussion on the matter."

There was a nod from the weapons specialist and the medic stepped back as the blades removed themselves and disappeared.

They were auto-bots yes, but he was a Decepticon and it was an opportunity to harm him. He was wanted alive, but it was expected for underlings to take it upon themselves to find out just what it was he could live through.

"You two hellions are coming with me!"

The larger mech grabbed the scowling set and hauled them out of the garage door and up what seemed to be a ramp.

With the purging of air in his ready to be pounded vents Barricade pushed the thoughts away. There were more important things to worry about then the fragged up morel code of the Auto-snots.

He was underground for one, good protection from seekers, harder then slag to get out of. The ramp was all the way at the other end of the long room currently being used as the med-bay. The door was still up and a ghost of a breeze tantalized his freshly restarted sensor net.

Pit loving slag humpers, they were teasing him.

It was the way out, all open and inviting and they just left it unguarded.

The Saleen twisted around, trying to stand. Powering up his HUD he cursed. Lower halve completely unresponsive.

Transformation drive- inactive.

Bastard son of a crock pot! He would belly craw out of here if he had to.

"Don't even think about it, Decepticon!"

The vile green doc stalked up to him and unceremoniously used his knee and greater weight to flip him around and pin the struggling mustangs chest to the floor.

Fragger.

One hand balked by the wall and the other Barricade wiggled out from under himself just in time to latch on to a leg as a jolt of raw information shot through his rear sensor array.

Pressure was on it, and it didn't like it.

The medic brushed his hands against the fractured pylons that at one time supported the interceptors chest, shoulders and head.

Barricade groaned, he couldn't smother the thing before it escaped. It wasn't that the doc was hurting him. No it was that he stopped receiving information long before the medics hands stopped moving.

He was paralyzed. He knew that.

His chest, arms, head moved and his legs were just along for the ride. He could feel the pressure of the medics knee to about halve way down. The upper relays protested the weight, the lower ones, nothing.

It still siphoned festered slag.

The hands tightened the connections on the equipment pumping his energon then pulled away. Knee still firmly pressing into his back.

"Its close enough of a match Prowl. I'll have to modify both Jazz's supports and Barricades internals for it to work, but it will work."

He paused in his attempts to dislodge the knee by wiggling and craned his neck around to see the black and white glitch. Prowl stood in front of the grey something that had eluded his optics, until now. Jazz's corpse was laid out on a work table face plates removed and optics not installed… at least not on that mech.

It was normal. The Decepticons did it all the time. If you were scrapped, you went to the medic-drones for spare parts. When they were done installing it on the new owner all they had to do was paint it to match.

He still shuttered.

It was one thing to say "Yeah I got so-in-so's fuel pump." its another to see that mech laid out with the bits missing that's now in you.

"Prowl?"

The Auto-bot 2nd in command tore his gaze away from the lifeless form to look them both over.

"Do what you have to do Ratchet."

He could feel the shift in weight as the doc nodded then fiddled with something on the life support machines. But he was watching Prowl, and saw as he slipped the blue visor into one of his sup-space pockets. Then walk out, closing the door behind him.

The next instant he was flipped on to his back and the inhibitor snapped into place commencing an immediate stasis lock.

--

This time when he awoke, it was dark and silent. Infra-red clicked on and the groggy Saleen peered around the now familiar med-bay. He was back on the table on his side, facing away from the monitors this time. His optics dimmed, why did he wake up?

The neural inhibitor was nagging at him to return to recharge.

The sensor net mounted on his back flared to life and he rolled, plasma blade hitting his arm instead of his open back panels.

This was more of what he expected.

The yellow one charged from his spot near the remains of the grey mech and he stumbled to his unsteady feet. Only to be knocked back down and away. Barricade choked down the pained cry from his un-paneled back hitting the wall and ducked the fist that slammed where his head had just been.

Then his luck ran out.

Red kicked him in the middle and he collapsed, Yellow took the hint and picked him up only to slam him against a few things before letting him hit the ground again. Then red got a hold of him.

He did his best not to make a sound other then grunts at impacts and the whorl of vents as he was soundly beaten.

Barricade was surprised there was no cries of "This is for Bluestreak!" or for anyone. But then this was the terrible twosome. He fought back as much as he could. Which wasn't much, the inhibitor prevented him from quick motions. And as swiftly as the beating started, it ended.

Red and Yellow turned away and left him to his pool of his own fluids.

That was more like it.

That was something he understood.

Vengeance, violence, doing underhanded nasty things when no-one was looking or by the pit, when everyone was looking.

And most importantly, the door motor never sounded off, it would have made to much noise.

So it was open.

They counted on him being to weak to get away.

Stupid-glitch riddled fleshling loving fraggers.

His fresh dents hurt and it took a few tries to shift around so he was on his back. Shutting off his vocalizer he reached in and pulled the inhibitor out.

Wave after wave of inputs from his legs and back crashed over him. The former cop car curled, then arched and silently screamed as his processor rerouted the inputs and sorted the jumbles into the correct programs.

It was eons before there was anything other then the pain, even then there was still agony echoing in his lower halve and most other places thanks to the twins.

It's just pain.

Just pain.

Nothing new.

He flipped over and forced his feet under himself. Wobbling, having to grab on to the wall for balance he hobbled to the door. It wasn't a horribly steep grade of incline but every step jostled things loosened by the twins and there was the faint glow from the trail of energon he was making.

They had cracked one of the new optics and it warped his vision as he stepped into the dessert moonlight. The gravel crunched under his feet as he dragged the left one a little. They had messed him up good.

There were warnings across the board flashing on his HUD. They had crumbled a intake vent and now he was running to few degrees to hot, his left leg had gotten twisted and the cut on his arm was leaking profusely. Not to mention there wasn't a place on him that wasn't dented in some way.

But the moon was large and full and the wind picked up sand as it blew against him. The dim light offered by the celestial body outlined the scattered cacti and the other bomb storage buildings the Autobots had set up as their base.

The large tracks from his attackers had glints of his energon as it dripped off of them into the dirt.

They where not hiding what they did.

Even after the command had stopped them.

Barricade felt a twinge of respect for the two. They would have made excellent Decepticons, ones that he would have liked to have fought alongside.

Slowly he engaged his transformation sequence. The metal of bent panels screeching damningly into the night until he rested on all four of his tires.

Lights slammed on all over the compound and he gunned his engine. Kicking up a tail of dust as he floored it to what his sensors indicated was the closest road.

Eat my dirt fragtards.

* * *

As always, thank you to those who review.


	8. alone

The lesser evil

Chapter 8

Alone.

In the eons he had been tracking down and eliminating targets, convoys, and what ever else he had been sic'ed upon, the question was bond to arise in his processor at some point.

What would he do if he was the target?

The basic codes for action/ reaction programs were the same for all mechs and very few indulged in truly understanding the program. He did. After so long of watching the reactions of his prey he could predict how a target would react, to a certain extent. How certain personality types reacted to certain things. How a few well placed shots would draw Ironhide out of hiding for a fight, but Optimus Prime would rush out only to save one of his mechs.

Still the question remained.

What would he do if he was the target of a hunter like himself?

Frag the fragtards until they understood the true meaning of the word frag.

At least that was the answer for when he was on Cybertron.

A bugle sounded over the base-wide P.A system and lights flicked on in the barracks. The interceptor silenced his idling engine in the vast parking lot that serviced the 4 closest dorm-like structures. Fleshies clamored out of the multi-storied brick structures stretching and chatting amongst themselves as they headed towards a manicured lawn in the center of the barracks complex that held several more buildings set up in similar format as this one.

A few stopped to look at him, but they continued along without a fuss.

So he was missing a few bits of himself. Like his hood wasn't there and anything made out of glass was shattered and there were massive cracks with chunks missing from where his police lights used to be mounted to his roof. One wheel didn't match the rest of the rims and he was covered in every imaginable dent, ding, scrap, scratch or crumple in the case of his rear bumper. Even his "To Punish and Enslave" decals were smeared into illegibility.

The leaks had stopped, though. So he wasn't sitting a vibrant blue-pink puddle.

The meat creatures had formed in to herds or what ever it was when they gathered in numbers and started to run. Three in a row, the point man carrying a small scrap of cloth tied to a stick and a larger male stayed to the outside yelling and grunting at the lot of them.

Then the… flock stepped out to the road and larger one started to bellow.

"When my granny was ninety-one, She did PT just for fun!"  
And the mass repeated it.

Seriously, how did these things become the dominate creatures of an entire planet?

Several more groups of the runners passed by his parking space all hollering about grannies, or how they earned their pay or something equally redundant.

They knew how they earned their pay and at the end of the song the granny was dead and still PT'ing.

Still, he was somewhere the Autobots would never think to look for him. They would assume he had high tailed it to the other side of the continent, not just going to the other side of the base. It certainly would be the last place he'd look for someone that had just escaped.

Not that any mech ever escaped a Decepticon base. They didn't live long enough to try. In fact most never lived long enough to even get to base.

Yeah, good times.

Besides, he needed to let his self repair programs do their thing before setting out. The twin terrors had slagged him good and ripping the inhibitor out had frazzled a few programs. Mostly his power distribution and steering subroutines, two things he needed if he wanted to move in a hurry, also a contributing factor in why he didn't get very far.

The parade field had emptied of the inane humans and with a pained grunt Barricade cranked his engine. The super charged V-8 sputtered and squealed and on the third try, stayed running. White smoke wafted up from the exposed engine that visibly vibrated in the meager morning light.

He fired up his HUD and the sensor net that let him 'see' in more than the standard infrared when in vehicle form. Sure enough everything flickered and his engine threatened to stall as his power fluctuated. It stabilized quickly and his rpm retuned to normal.

The mutilated black and white reinitiated his hack of the WiFi internet the barracks put out for its tenants. Using his communication frequencies to hack a satellite like normal would attract too much attention and all these grunts used the internet for was to look at porn.

Now that was some funny slag.

The Wifi's firewalls and security systems barely counted as resistance as he plowed his way in. Googleing any mention of the Decepticons or Autobots or anything related to himself.

There were several sites dedicated to the robotic aliens the human government still claimed didn't exist.

There were very poor videos of Thundercracker and Skywarp as they fled from the fight on the golf course. There were tons more from many sites across the globe. He could put together that more Decepticons had landed, from his rough guess of the crappy images he would have to say Onslaught, Hook though it could be Scrapper, and a few more flyers had entered the fray. There were some of the Autobots, but they didn't mater he knew which ones of them had arrived.

His power fritzed and he let the connection deactivate.

The Saleen counted 8 Seekers from the clips to the 2 maybe 3 ground pounders.

The flyboys were a tight knit group and if the Screamer wanted him dead, then they all wanted him dead.

One ticket to the pit with extra flames please.

Barricade slumped low on his tires, cutting his engine when the masses returned from their morning jaunt. Over the next earth hour the meat sticks reemerged from the brick buildings and left in their vehicles, emptying the parking lot around him.

After the last car left and the sun had finished burning the morning haze off to glare heatedly down on him, he started his struggling engine and rolled towards the main gate.

The guards and barriers were all on the inbound side preventing access but there was nothing to stop him from leaving. They didn't even look at him as his belts squealed horribly as he wove his way through the barriers.

The road opened up to the dust blown American south west and the battered car puttered along at the speed limit. Passing through the town, through several towns and declining to get on the interstate. Mostly because his tie rods refused to let him turn to get on the on ramp, a lot of his turn selections were based on this.

Where was he going?

Never in any of the scenarios his processor cooked up did he not have a Decepticon leader or base to return to. The fliers did not want him and he did not want the Autobots.

Now what?

He had always had a purpose. First to work in his creator's factory until he made back the cost of his manufacture, than as a warrior in the Decepticon ranks.

What was his purpose now?

He rolled through the suburbs of a city he didn't even notice as the sun burned over head.

The goal of reaching Soundwave and informing him of Starscream's impending treachery seemed so far off. Evan if he aligned himself with the ground pounders currently on planet, what could they do?

They had to be equipped with a massive communication system to reach the far off Cybertron. Something the interceptor knew the Screamer would not allow the land based 'Cons to have equipped nor would he grant them enough energon to escape Earths gravity so that they could use their standard issued communication devices to send the message via a hacked satellite. Starscream had actually put some processor time on this one and would not let them get information to Soundwave about what the Flyer was up to.

The Prime had a system that could work from inside the planets magnetic field, but it could only be used by the Prime himself, the same way Megatron had one.

He would shoot himself long before he would consider asking the current Prime for anything and Megatron was a long way down.

Primus, now what?

Those three months he had waited for Scarscream to return were nothing like this single day. Because he knew the flyer would return, he just had to wait it out then he'd be part of something again.

He had escaped the Autobots, because he had too. He was a Decepticon, but Megatrons Decepticons. Not the Screamers, and they were the only ones left.

So what was he?

His allegiance was his defining point.

Now he had none.

A neural?

No, never. They were the slag of all slag. They had ignored the war and run off to planets unknown to live like nothing was happening.

A great mesa rose along the skyline, the earth jutting up to form a flat hill miles and miles across the barren desert scrub. The setting sun back lighting it for a few brief minutes before plunging beneath the raised horizon.

He honestly had no idea where he was. The day was a mess of thoughts that circled around his processor going nowhere.

The road kept on going and he kept on following it. Turning randomly at junctions until the desert ate the road and just the desert remained. A sun baked and faded sign announced he was at the Grand Mesa observation point.

In a way he was free.

It was so strut shockingly freighting he didn't know what to do.

There was never a time when he didn't have to report in to anyone.

The Saleen cut his battered and dust choked engine. Transforming in the pathetic excuse of a parking lot to stand in the swiftly encroaching utter darkness.

Alone.

He had never been alone.

Physically yes. He had spent vorn on his own hunting targets, but he had always been part of something.

His fellow Decepticons always a com. call away.

Slowly he cycled through the com. channels that were saved to his communications grid.

Soundwave: unreachable.

Brawl: dead.

Screamer: like he would dial that number.

Bonecrusher: Dead.

Blackout:...

Frenzy: Dead.

The list continued on like that. A few unreachable, but mostly dead mechs littered his communication list.

The mustang stepped over the split rail fence and into the brush. His regenerative program was working on quite a few things still and had not fixed his cracked optic. Not that the distortion mattered. He could 'see' in the sonar and infrared spectrums as well as the light based ones. Letting him step around the cacti and sage brush as he made his way to what looked to be a way up the side of the large mesa.

The pain of his injuries had faded, they always do.

But there was a… numbness that clouded his processors.

It was his survival programs that insisted the mesa was good place to rest, the Autobots had no flyboys and he would be able to detect the air morons a long way out. For now it was the best he could do and with a symphony of creaks from his battered body, the one time Decepticon climbed the side.

Heaving himself over the eroded lip to stand under the massive black sky. Stars winked at him from the vast heavens but he only had optics for one.

Cybertron.

It was dim, human equipment could barely detect it, but he knew which one of the billion gleaming dots was his home.

He was still standing there stargazing when a gust of wind hit him and his HUD lit up like Times Square on new years.

Barricade dodged the first swing and kicked out, hitting his opponent but failing to damage him. Grimacing when he prompted his weapon systems only to get an error, the Auto-snots had disabled his weaponry and he had yet to get around the programming block.

Slag them up the aft.

He whipped around to see his adversary, and a well timed blow kept him spinning off balance. A second one sent him through a scrub tree as his body dug a rut in the sand. Lying still when he finally stopped sliding, the Interceptor could feel the heavy footfalls coming closer and heard the deep chuckle as the mech leaned down to grab him from his freshly made trench.

His claws raked up the haze gray arm, gouging the metal and slicing lines. The blue power feed line snapped under his ministrations and the towering mech threw him down with a howl of pain.

He would never give in and go quietly.

The damaged mustang danced out of the much larger mechs range. Claws dripping heated energon on to the dry desert sand.

"You never did know when to give in."

The other mech stood up from his crouch and adjusted the rotors at his back. Red optics glaring at the smaller Decepticon as he reconnected the power feed to his weapon.

"Blackout."

The shape was similar yet different. No fuel probe jutted out from the chest and the fuel tanks on his shoulders looked different. The word Marines spanned the length of his tail.

"You died. In Mission City."

There was a mechanical snort and a curt chuckle.

"They thought I died. Do you really think a fragging flesh wad would bring me down? Starscream was leading us to the pit so I cut power and went in to stasis when it seamed like a good time."

"Megatron's dead, by a flesh wad."

"Yeah, a flesh wad that had the cube. Not your standard flesh wad. And I was right; Screamer got everyone off-lined."

The CH-53's arm transformed in to a weapon almost as large as Barricade then transformed back to a still bleeding three fingered hand.

"You fight like a cornered Turobo fox."

Because he was.

The Saleen smirked momentarily as the large Decepticon came towards him. Dropping into a fighting stance and wincing as something refused to move with the rest of him. Blackout lunged at the last moment and Barricade met him halfway. Digging his claws into the curving chest and shattering the port windscreen before ducking under the swinging arm and catching a rotor with his shoulder.

The moon was high in the ebon sky, casting its dim light on the two fighters as they circled each other. The mustang sputtered in the cooling night and the larger mech seized the opportunity and the struggling sports cars arm.

He recoiled and sputtered again, power fluctuating to the point where he stalled out. Leaving him hanging in Blackouts vice like grip.

This wasn't how it was suppose to happen.

The helicopter was notorious for his like of sleek forms and as any true Decepticon, no, meant until you make me.

Blackout liked making you.

Other then that he was a great guy. You know, loved killing Autobots, very good at it too and loyal to Megatron. Could hold his own in a snark-o-Olympics, always a plus.

The large mech lowered him to the ground where all he could do was click pathetically as his power failed to stabilize. He felt his chest panels being pried open and struggled, clawing, biting, trying to get out from under the form looming over him. Then his power feeds cut out again and the he felt the huge communications bot splice himself in to his processor net.

There was no great rush of energy, no transfer of spark pulse, just a diagnostic program.

"Hold still you little fragger and stop trying to claw my optics out."

He jerked as Blackout settled himself next to him. The large 'con defiantly not made for sitting in his mech mode. So the Sikorsky laid down and extended the three rotor blades he was not laying on over his shoulder almost like he was getting ready to fly.

Barricade jerked again as the diagnostic program found some corrupted date, deleted it and commenced to download the needed files from Blackout.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're useless when you're broken."

The three rotor blades hanging over him flared to life, sharp snaps of miniature lightning lit along the edges and a warbling purple hue drifted between the still rotors.

A force field, a strong one at that and he was under it. Primus when was the last time that had happened?

Blackout was designed for Communications similar to the esteemed Soundwave. The rotors would be his sensor array which would of course be protected at all costs.

"Can you contact Soundwave?"

The rotors had lines of gold peaking out from the black skin. It gleamed and pulsed from the power moving through it and it just called to him to touch it. To catch the light as it ran up and down the rotor blade the way a cat had to catch a wiggling string.

"I'd have to clear the atmosphere; this planets weather scrambles the signal."

The battered Saleen extended his hand upward and caught the flick of light as it cruised along its circuit. A claw touching a bit of the exposed gold and voices, human and Cybertronion jumped into his audios and he jerked his hand away.

Blackout was listening to the human military coms, and to the chatter between Starscream and the mechs who had come to add him. The large helio shifted in the sand to get more comfortable in the awkward as slag position he was in. Lowering the rotor blade until it was almost touching Barricade.

The Interceptor, the hunter and killer of countless mechs, he who would go anywhere, do anything to get his kill, shifted so that he came into contact with the rotor blade again.

So he could listen to the voices of his former comrades, or humans, or snippets from his mortal enemy's who were nowhere near his present location.

So he wouldn't be alone.

And when Blackout reached out to set his massive hand on Barricades chest, the hunter did not balk.

It was better then being alone.

From the heavens, Cybertron looked down at her wayward children and for a moment, just a mere nano-click, shown as brightly North Star.

A/N So I was worried about putting Blackout in here because I would go over the top with details. I work on MH-53E's and I loved how in ROTF they have a marine 53 instead of an Air force one. It's a bit closer to the model that I'm familiar with. On that note, I don't plan to use ROTF in this story. Maybe bits and piece's like the model chance for Blackout, but that's it.

A side story :p I have 2 ball pythons, Monti and Gwen. There good snakes as snakes go and I let them out of their habitat to roam around a room at least once a week. It has got to be boring as all hell to be stuck in the 55 gallon aquarium all the time and I'm sure they enjoy there wander around time. They are both about 4 feet long and Monti is thicker like the diameter of a tennis ball, Gwen maybe as thick as your wrist. Any who, I left them to explore my bedroom and went to lunch with my mom whose visiting me. I get back and find Monti wrapped around some of my Transformer toys that are still in the boxes, but I can't find Gwen. I look and look but can't find her anywhere. Monti goes back into his pen alone and I spend the night looking and assuring my mother that the snake is not in her room. I ripped my room apart looking for this snake, I mean she's 4 feet long and is yellow/brown, a hard to miss combination.

So after disassembling my bed, dressers and closet and moving the selves to make sure she's not behind them, I'm putting all the transformer items back on to the self when a box seems really heavy for a plastic toy.

Yep. She got into an unopened box, Onslaught from the universes line. He and the powerglide figure have a hole cut in the front plastic so you can try out the button that makes noises. And somehow she crawled in through that hole.

Nice to know I'm not the only female in my house that likes transformers, being a python gives her extra cool points too.


	9. Morning after

Lesser Evils

Chapter 9

Morning after

Barricade watched the eastern sky shift from star punctured black to star punctured deep blue along the horizon. Crickets and cicadas started up with their morning symphony as a dry wind blew lazily across the mesa top. Sand blew over him in little waves and a tumble weed let go of its mooring to start its journey.

He hadn't recharged, Blackout had been too enthusiastic.

Not that he had any complaints about the performance and judging how he still had all his limbs attached, Blackout was satisfied as well.

The fragger.

As the Saleen brought himself up from his prone position, sand and grit fell from his dark frame to be caught and blown away with the wind. Groaning halfway up, he let himself fall back to the ground.

Much too enthusiastic.

Barricade glared out at the Helicopter from the depths of their recently created sand wallow. Blackout was in his helo form a little way off with his rotors spinning slowly with the wind, catching the pre dawn light on the golden seams so it looked as though they were glowing.

There was a metallic chirr as Scorponok made his way past, partially submerged and covered by loose sand. Barricade knew it was a drone, sentient but not intelligent, similar to that of a dog, but it was still disturbing when he had spotted it mid interface.

Those optics, peeking up from the sand near the brush line. Sure the drone was just making sure that he wasn't harming his master, but it was still creepy as the pit to have an audience.

The scorpion meandered his way to the parked helo and clicked in agitation. The chirrs growing to screeches as that deadly tail whipped back and forth mere millimeters from the starboard fuel tank. Blackout halted the spin of his rotors, transformed and knelt, letting the agitated critter latch into place on his back.

"What was that about?"

The helo glanced down at him and shrugged.

"He gets cranky when he stands guard all night."

The large helo turned to face the ever brightening light, putting his back to the smaller 'Con.

He should be attacking the big lug nut for last night. Retribution for holding him down and … who was he kidding. Once he figured out Blackout was not going to harm him further then he already was, he rather liked it.

Not that he'd admit it.

Ever.

He still should attack him, rip out his flight controls and kick him in the interface panels. Decepticon protocol and all that.

The black and white shifted around to get to his feet without jarring his tender midsection and climbed out of the hole. Things rattled in him, a pump wheezed and when his gyro pinged loudly, he opted not to collect retribution for the moment and just walked towards his fellow Decepticon.

He'd bide his time and slag him when he wasn't expecting it. When he was healed up and back on par.

The fragger would probably like getting jumped.

He certainly liked jumping.

The sun crested the horizon and the helicopter's rotors flared a molten gold. The mustang slowed, then stopped and stared as each minute movement cast reflected light in an ever moving brilliant shower around his companion.

Blackout turned around and smirked at him.

The sun backlighting so the face was obscured in darkness with just the gleaming red optics visible as the reflected light swirled like liquid gold around the towering mech.

He shook himself out of his reverie at the sound of a baritone chuckle.

Barricade growled, the slag stick had meant to dazzle him, and he had been dazzled. What the frag was his problem? You don't just do that. Momentarily blind someone before shooting them, yeah, but just doing it because you can?

The over grown egg beater turned away, dimming the light show and Barricade made his way to stand at Blackouts side with an annoyed growl. Keeping a respectable distance from the Sikorsky and pointedly ignored the mech.

The helo must be going soft, what with his companion Scorpinoc always in tow and not just seeking him out, but fixing him.

A Decepticon needs only himself. Everyone else could stab you in your recharge.

The mesa's side dropped a few paces ahead of where they stood. The steep and heavily eroded side flattening out several hundred of feet below to the red dirt and cacti of the desert interrupted only by a small town whose buildings littered the vast landscape.

Farther away the interstate cut through the sand, the trucks headlights flicking off as the sun rose. Leaving the massive vehicles looking like ants as they continued along their routes.

Mornings after were always awkward.

Even more awkward not having to reassemble yourself.

He understood why most Cons preferred to dismantle their mate in the process; one could just leave as the pieces were gathered up.

And no moments like this.

Decepticons were not supposed to be personable; they didn't have friends or lovers. It was much simpler to take advantage of someone's momentary weakness knowing full well that someone is sure as the pit going to take advantage of yours.

Yet the helicopter sought him out. Repaired his glitches and left him in as many pieces as he'd found him.

"Are you going to say something or just stare out at the massive amounts of dirt?"

A large hand swept across the horizon with the words.

The police interceptor glared at the large mech.

Need only yourself.

You're the only one who will help you.

Friends and lovers are weakness waiting to be exploited.

The mustang flexed his claws wanting to rip the face plates off Blackout. It would be the Decepticon thing to do, but he didn't move.

The helo must have noticed.

"I liked it better when you were staring out at the vast nothing."

Blackout gestured out at the sprawling desert and highway again then walked away from the edge. The interceptor spun around to face the retreating form.

" Why…?"

The footfalls halted.

"I already answered that one. You're pathetic when you're broken. You still are pathetic, but at least now you can shoot."

Barricade swiftly checked his weapon status, arms shifting to cannons then to gyro flail.

Everything checked out, the pit bound whirly-gig must have over ridden the Autobots blocks when they were attached.

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Oh right and just because I'm a coms mech it means I know what the frag one word questions are about. The long version might be better sometimes dip stick."

Agitation rose in the smaller one, he did not like laying everything out and a verbal challenge was something he would not refuse.

And the idiot KNEW that and was using it to get him to talk to him.

"Fine, since you need everything broken down and labeled. Why have you targeted me for your attentions? Why are you here, helping me when every other mech on this aft backwards planet wants me dead?"

He stalked up to Blackout and was jabbed one of his talons into what chest panels he could reach. His hand was slapped away, the force from the blow upsetting his balance and he wobbled. The freshly replaced back struts not liking the twisting motion one bit.

"Is that all?" Came the bellowing voice followed by a harsh chuckle.

"I interface you because I like your aft. I'm helping you because I am NOT helping Starscream and his fleet of flying tin cans. What you thought I liked you? HA"

"GOOD, I thought you were getting weak and that I would have to put you out of my misery."

"Like a pint sized mech could kill me, what could you do, bite my ankles?"

Blackout took a swipe, knocking Barricade back. Before he could retract his hand the Mustang unsheathed his claws and diced the appendage.

"I've taken out bigger mechs then your over-zealous skid plate ever could."

"Did you let them at your spark afterward like you let me? Oh, that would explain the looseness in your AGGG!"

He leapt up at the helo, raking his claws across Blackout's face in a furious swipe. Then twisting out of the hands that tried to grab him and punch him at the same time. Ducking under the seeking hands and lunging to sink his claws in an unprotected side seam.

"Rabid glitch mouse, let go!"

"Prime could park in the shade of your big aft!"

His shoulder creaked, tank gurgled and his primary servo hissed loudly as it lost pressure as he pried the seam apart. Blackout flailed around grabbing at him as he twisted out of reach, moving with the immense mech like a dance partner. Stabbing and slicing with his talons every chance he could.

Not trying to kill him, maim and gouge, oh yes.

All the while curses flue.

"Oversized blender couldn't please a pleasure bot."

Blackout stumbled and wobbled forward with each attack, attempting to remove the interceptor that was digging in to his side.

"Rejected Turbo skank."

The police car felt the sudden lurch forward then the strut jarring impact as Blackout strategically fell to their sand wallow.

With him underneath.

Barricade received a face full of sand and his shoulder strut popped out of alignment as he struggled against the mech using his much greater mass to pin him down. Blackout shifted, moving Barricade in the process, pulling the struggling mech more squarely under him. Something caught on his back plates and as he was pulled, his strained back was pulled out of alignment. It was only a small cracking noise but an all consuming jab of pain shot up his back.

He didn't scream or cry out, not even when the oversized glitch briefly set his massive weight on him to get his feet under him.

You are the master of yourself and screaming pain is a surefire way to let every one know where to shoot.

The helo steadied himself in his crouch and shook the sand and grit off into the ever present wind. A look of triumph on the towering mechs face.

Still he didn't move. He was aware. Very aware. Of the sand and wind and of the large hand that pinned his arms and the other had fingers wedging open a chest panel.

"Always a sore loser weren't you Barricade."

He growled, there wasn't much more he could do at the moment.

"Then process this little broken one, I interfaced you because I could. Because I knew you would be too weak to stop me, yet try all the same. But you didn't resist, now did you. Because your mine until I find a better toy and there isn't slag you can do about it."

His chest had been wedged open by the massive hand, exposing his delicate inner workings and laying his spark out.

You are the master of your self and pain is yet another thing you can shove down and if not beat into submission, then ignore until you can.

Blackout fired a small, controlled cutting lazer, etching his decree of ownership onto the exposed spark casing.

Unicron sweet lord of unmaking it fragging hurt.

But it gave him an opportunity the exploit his captors concentration. As the lazer died off and so did the pain of it, Barricade transformed his pinned hand in to his gyro flail. Letting the whirly gig impale himself on the sharpened spikes and recoil back giving him enough room to fire it off properly.

The spinning, twisting metal slapped the helo across the face leaving great rents where the spikes tore the surface metal away.

He was made to be quick, Blackout, not so much. As the flail arced back Barricade used the momentum of it to pull himself out from under the now enraged helicopter. His back swore curses at him and he shoved it all down into the pit of I Don't Care.

Blackout raised his weapon arm and he guided the flail to smash in to it, knocking the shot wide.

The red optics gleamed in the morning light glaring murder and mockery.

"Too late to fight now. You already let me have what I wanted from you."

They circled each other like prizefighters looking for an opening, like they had last night.

"You know Blackout, for all you preoccupation with it, a blender could have interfaced better then your sorry demented aft."

"Ha and I trust you to know what interfacing a blender would be like, spending too much time alone, aren't you. Even the locals are starting to look good."

The blast of a tour bus's air horn cut through the dessert from the parking lot below them. Blackout lunged forward, grabbed the startled Mustang and launched him in the direction of the Mesa's plunging slope, away from the morning tourists.

There wasn't much he could do stop the pull of gravity and down the side he went. Struggling to remain upright as he slid down the heavily eroded slope and dodge the boulders imbedded into the mesa side. A shadow past over head and he knew his sensors would not get anything.

Blackout was jamming his own signals, rendering him invisible to everything but the uncovered optic as he fled their compromised location. Slip sliding down in a cloud of dust with a minor avalanche of gravel at his feet until the earth leveled off, he transformed and set his course for the closest road on this side of the mesa.

The scum of the pit could rot in the belly of Unicron.

He could feel on his sensory net what the fargger had written on his spark case.

Property of Blackout.

He didn't belong to anybody, let alone an oversized interface addict.

But he would find him again.

Oh yes he would.

He was going to rip the spark out of him and…

His comms detected an incoming message from the fragtard and he hastily opened it.

"36.3986256015574 by -76.01200103759766. If you want to do something about the morons, be there."

The east coast, the fragger wanted him to all the way to the east coast of this Autobot infested continent.

For what?

It didn't mater, now did it? He was going to be used either way. Either as a target or as a toy trying to get revenge.

Revenge was nice, it made him tingle.

And when he was done with the fliers, the frag a chopter would be the next one on his list.

A/N Yes I live or something like it. You see my mother has been ill and has moved in with me. Not so bad, keep the snakes in my room as a guard against her organizing ways and it was going so nice. Then she found WoW.

Yes it's tragic. My 53 year old mother becoming a world of warcraft addict. I played, still do when I have an hour to burn, but playing for hours/days on end is a waist of life. And I only have one computer. So its not just my story writing time that has been sacrificed to feed her addiction, I have been late paying bills because I do(did) everything online.

/cry

Oh and what? You thought Decepticons would be nice to each other? Yeah right. They're Decepticons! Nice is not a known word.

And those are real gps cords to where he'll be going.

Thank you for reading and please review.


	10. Chapter 10

The lesser evil

Chapter 10

Something about.

* * *

The road was flat and the starry sky immense as Interstate 80 passed swiftly under his tires. Only 130 miles until Omaha or so the reflective green signs along the road proclaimed. The conditions were perfect for driving, hot, dry and late at night so there were less humans out to interfere.

Trucks though, littered the road. Some forming great convoys that he rocketed passed. Others just cruising along, he wove around with out much effort. At first it had been a pleasure to get back out on the open highway. To feel the sun baked asphalt under his tires and the wind whipping pasted his damaged, yet still sleek form. The Rocky Mountains had some of the best driving to be had on this planet. Leaning in on the hairpin turns, feeling his frame shift ever so slightly with it, knocking off what felt like eons worth of dust and crud as he broke in the new back struts properly. Hearing his engine reverberated back at him when he rocketed through a tunnel. Scoffing as the fleshlings, males mostly, would try to pass him and he would let them get right up to his rear bumper before accelerating away.

It felt good.

Or it had.

Now a few weeks later, it was boring.

Vector Nebraska should be blown up just to give its drivers a challenge. Swerve to dodge a crater, zigzag to miss the flaming debris. It would defiantly make this drive more entertaining.

But the mountains had merged into the featureless great planes, which were indeed great and plain. Going around a Peterbilt hauling logs, the Mustang fired up his forward facing scanners to find the next rest stop. His energon was at 40% and that was the lowest he wanted to let it fall.

Just in case.

He wasn't paranoid or anything.

Really.

Just cautious.

If his extended trip had taught him anything, it was to be prepared for everything.

That and Blackout was the largest aft in the Decepticon forces. If the rotor tiller wanted him to meet him somewhere, he should pick someplace not crawling with military personnel.

Sure they were crawling all over the over sized glitch as he faked an engine failure stranding the 20 odd marines at the abandoned air field in Vector Virginia.

Sending him a transmission that was mostly laughter as the fleshys scrambled to get the glitch hound running properly.

Grindor as he called himself now had "allied" with the flyers that didn't even notice that the records stated that Grindor had perished in the battle for Athelex eons ago.

Frag that.

Blackout was Blackout and was still the malicious, devious, conniving back stabber that the Mustang knew well.

So while the skid plate had his fun hiding as a Marine chopper, figuring out what to do about the Seekers, he got to do a tour of this Primus forsaken, miserable excuse of a planet.

Sweet lord of unmaking, if he made it back to the east coast again and Blackout still hasn't come up with something. He was going to blow something up.

Preferably the chopper in question.

He was in some serious explosion withdrawals as it was and the fragger was such a deserving target.

The blue rest stop sign whipped past and he slowed to a speed that was not triple digits. Barricade followed a slow moving Freightliner in and tailed it to the truck lot, staying as far from the travel center as he could. A swift scanner sweep located a bent lamp pole that still had power going to it. He pulled around to the darkened space and hacked and snacked on the supplied electricity.

Nowhere near as good as energon, but it'll do in a pinch.

Settling in for a quick recharge as he gleaned the needed fuel from the available resources Barricade let himself relax a little.

Blackout was halfway across the country stirring up trouble in his subtle, yet surprisingly effective way.

The Auto snots were holding up, not wanting to make too much of a stir hunting him down, when the new arrivals were keeping them more then preoccupied.

And the Decepticons were out there plotting heinous schemes that he would, sadly, have no part of.

He really missed killing things, sure he ran over a few inhabitants of the desert but armadillos were hardly a challenge.

He could feel himself slip in to a recharging state. The various ways to make the travel center vanish in a cloud of smoke and a booming explosion that took a large chopper with it, lulling him deeper into recharge.

His auto scan program registered a vehicle pull off the interstate and circle around to the lighted travel centers human restrooms. But the Mustang was in to deep to care about the small but persistent flashing light that jumped onto his HUD accompanied with an even more persistent beep as the vehicle pulled in to scanner range.

An old blue Kensworth cab-over pulled in and not finding any open spots, parked roadside next to a black car that seemed to be part of the darkness under a bent lamp. The sudden hiss of the air brakes taking hold shook the Mustang and Barricade came out of his recharging state long enough to notice the beeping warning. And just who it was that had pulled up to the travel center.

Rule 1 of what to do when the slag hits the fan.

Don't panic. - They might not have noticed you yet.

If the situation calls for you to jump up out of the darkness cannons blazing then that's one thing. But it's quite effective just to wait quietly for a good shot and down him in one go.

Less likely to get him slagged in the process as well.

Alas, this is a concept that most other Decepticons failed to grasp.

Besides, it seemed like the Insect was more preoccupied with the two bumbling humans that had stumbled out of restrooms and were now trying to convince a vending machine to take their currency.

The meet stick, Ladiesman217, had a restraining device around his arm and it appeared to be hindering his ability to operate his fingers. The femme glided over and snatched the currency from his disabled hand, feeding the machine and making a show of letting her mate make the selection.

Slowly Barricade disengaged from the light pole.

It was so… disgusting.

The way the femme joked and teased and Ladiesman217 scoffed and acted more hurt then he was. All to get the femme to lean in and show affection. How the Bug revved his engine to get the pair to cease and let them crawl in to his seating compartment.

If it was possible for him to gag, he would of.

Friends are just waiting for the right moment to kill you in your recharge.

Enemies are at least a little more forward in their ambitions.

As the yellow and black Camaro pulled away without so much as a sensor sweep the Mustang felt slighted.

He was right here.

Itching for a source of entertainment and the frag-o-matic totally ignored him.

There was no way for him to not register on a basic sensor field.

Yet that pit scored aft hat ignored him!

He had been fragging woken up just to get past by.

His rear tires kicked up a rooster tail of dry dirt as he pealed out after the Auto snot's fleshling keeper.

The flat road that had so board him, now paying him a favor as he accelerated swiftly in the pre dawn. Easily coming in to short sensor range in a few moments and almost grinning as the Bug sped up to get away.

Ignore this.

He pushed his acceleration to the max, chasing the Insect through the thin, but steady traffic. Weaving though a set of semi's and dodging a mini van with a mattress strapped to the top of it.

Then the road opened up long and flat with no tail lights other than his preys in front of him. Gaining on the Camaro foot by foot until the yellow bumper was mere inches away. The bug switched lanes and he mirrored, drafting the slightly larger mech at almost 300 mph.

They hit a pocket of traffic, a couple of Semi's with car's scattered through out. The Maggot wove around the vehicles, rocketing through the minor congestion with him less then a foot away from his tail the entire time.

It was fun.

Well more fun then driving this stretch of road on his own.

And while it was not much of a challenge, it was still the most skillful driving he'd had to perform since the last time he had hunted down the meat stick.

Now if he could just make the semi's explode he'd be having a good day.

The Yellow one cut on to an exit ramp and he skidded broadside for a few clicks to make the turn. Roaring down the exit ramp and drifting through the stop sign at the end of it. The red tail lights his only focus as fields full of tall green stalks he didn't care about enough to learn its name, whipped past him as the road let him inch closer.

Massive sprinkler systems set on movable trestles arched over the fields of green and the Insect ducked onto a service entrance that dead ended at a fence line of barbed wire. The Mustang heard the screech as the Camaro barreled through the fence, pulling the two fence posts out of the ground before the wire broke and recoiled back. Lashing at Barricades head lights and scratching his doors as he followed the gnat off road. Tires bounced in the ruts and produce slapped him in the windshield as the sun rose over the lush green fields.

The Camaro raced under a spraying sprinkler system, tires loosing grip on the saturated soil and knocked the corn down in a near perfect circle as he spun around. Taking off at a different heading once he recovered his control. Barricade made his own crop circle as he strategically hit the wet dirt and barreled on after his prey.

His spark thrummed in his chest and his servos ached as they were shook fiercely by the very rough terrain.

He felt alive.

His engine roared and his frame vibrated oh so wonderfully in the heat of the pursuit.

Primus he had missed this.

Almost as mush as he missed what would happen when he caught him.

And he would catch him.

Oh yes.

He flexed his sheathed talons and growled in anticipation.

A copse of trees hugged the rivers bank providing protection from erosion as the rivers contents were pumped through the sprinkler system, lowering the rivers water level. He could see the pathetically made bridge that attempted to connect the fields on each side of the river. It looked like a bunch of trees had been cut to size and cemented into the banks of the depleted waterway, and it looked like it hadn't been assembly recently.

Barricade slowed his speed minutely as the Insect careened into the ruts leading to the questionable bridge. Veering though the trees and transforming before he hit the knee deep water, he fired a single shot.

Blowing the bridge to smithereens out from under the Camaro and the Insect's momentum flipped him as forward suddenly became up.

Score!

The yellow one landed hard on his side and in the few clicks it took Barricade to reach him, he'd deposited his human cargo and transformed.

Barricade grabbed his now damaged arm at the sparking relay and slammed his weapon into the Bug's chest. Knocking his back into the river bank, pinning him.

Game, set and match.

Not there had been any doubt.

This was his purpose after all.

The Mustang could feel the gnats accelerated spark pulse vibrating through the barrel of his weapon and could feel his own pounding in his audio's against the torrent of air his cooling unit was pumping in to dissipate some of his heat.

Kill him.

Be done with it.

He stood there, in the knee deep water. One hand grasping his prey's arm and the other in plasma gun form, out and heated. The Yellow fraggers other hand was around the barrel, attempting to push it way.

Three weeks of open roads and silent comm. channels. Three weeks of nothing but boring driving though this pit damned organic planet. Primus knows how many orns of waiting with only 2 bit processor speed mechs to banter with.

All of whom would slit his throat if the opportunity arose.

Some of whom instigating said opportunity.

He pulled his gun away, transforming it back in to his hand and wrapped his claws around his nemeses throat.

This was better, killing mechs personally.

Ripping sparks out of casings and what not.

Barricade flexed his claws, nicking a line and sending bright blue energon dribbling down the yellow front.

It was glorious, the smell of ozone being formed from the exposed fuel and the look in the Bugs optics as he squeezed.

But he couldn't make a fist, ripping the lines out with on good pull.

Something was stopping him.

Something about the silence of the road, going nowhere, doing nothing.

Something about how he hated it worse then he hated this fragging warped cortex of a mech.

Something in his processor telling him that killing the only mech that didn't want to kill him in return wasn't a good idea.

With a fierce growl he lifted the struggling yellow mech and threw him. Sending him splashing into the shallow water, Barricade turned and jumped the scorched embankment.

"We're even, Buzz aft, next time I'll kill you."

Barricade stalked away, stomping through the corn rows slicing through the vegetation with his talons in angry swipes.

There was a strange new process going on in his cortex, this not killing his enemy thing was disgusting and he fire walled the firewall he placed around not only the corrupted file but the memory bank as well.

"Wait."

The voice was hoarse and he ignored it. Same way he ignored the bot that came charging after him.

It could have been planted by the fragging Autobots, some sort of happy fun time love everybody virus meant to destroy his processor, or turn him into a fragging Autobot.

He shuttered.

No, never, he would rip out his own servos first.

And eat them.

The Insect grabbed his shoulder mount and he spun around. Slicing the Yellow's front, energon gushing from the diagonal rips.

That was more like it.

But that was it; no follow through blow to the head, no ripping things off the chassis.

Nothing.

His red optics glaring at the blue ones before him, blaming him for this.

Why didn't he kill him?

His claws flexed, but stayed at his side and Buzz aft cocked his head at him. Pathetic questioning look in those disgracefully large blur optics, then swung. Barricade ducked and rolled swiping as the Bug swung again. Each landing their hit and he outright tackled the slightly larger mech.

The sun was out now it glinted off the glass in the combatants door wings. In the distance he noted the 2 flesh bags standing near the tree line, but his attention was more centered on the yellow mech that just punched and shattered one of his headlights.

He returned the favor, with interest. Clawing his adversary's headlights out and swiping at the face guard. Leaving great gashes that dripped, but not enough to be a fatal wound.

He was thrown to the ground, caught himself and gut checked Bug before having his knee joint snapped back with a painful crunch.

He wobbled as his other leg compensated and was setting up to remove Bugs arm when the 2 humans shouted.

"Bee! The farmer's coming over!"

"We gota get moving Bee, he looks pissed!"

Turning on his heel Bee transformed, shot over to his pets and let them climb in. A disgusted shutter worked its way up his spine as an old pick up came rocking towards them from the other side of the tree line.

The crack of a rifle being shot and the zip as it whizzed passed his head and his hand turned back into his plasma rifle.

He was going to kill something today by Primus.

And this fleashling just volunteered.

The Insect veered toward him, clipping his damaged leg and sending the plasma shot wide.

With a roar of disgust he transformed and shot after the meddling Autobot. A few more rifle rounds sounding off behind him until they hit a dirt road, where Bee turned left and to what his scanners told him, was the closest town.

He paused, to the right was the freeway, where any self respecting Decepticon in this situation should be heading.

Back to the open road and the boring nothing that was out there, with only the word of a blender bot that it would change any time in the foreseeable future.

The Camaro had stopped on the dirt road a ways up; the 2 fleshys had their faces turned to him and was watching him with their beady organic eyes. With a snort Barricade turned left and passed the glitching Auto-snot. Covering him with dust and loose gravel from the rooster tail he'd kicked up.

Picking up the Gnats ping on sensor as the Camaro followed him.


	11. all who wander

Lesser evils

Chapter 11

Not all who wander

Bee clipped his bumper as the yellow gnat slipped in front of him. Slowing down and flashing a turn signal at the same time the common comm. channel buzzed. Barricade ignored the comm. for the fifth time and swerved out from behind the Auto-snot.

Accelerating through the blinking yellow traffic light, not that there were any other vehicles around to worry about.

His scanners telling him the insect had pulled off and stopped. Again the comm. channel buzzed and again he ignored it.

It was bad enough he was consorting with the enemy, having a nice conversation with the guy would probably force him to rip his own manifolds out.

When he reached the next side street the Mustang slowed and turned down the third and final street in this one blinking yellow light town.

The insect sure knew how to pick em. Nowhere on this morally confusing chase did he encounter a WiFi signal and cell service was spotty at best. Not that he really cared to inform Blackout of this new development. Seeing how he was almost to BFE which ironically was not in Egypt. He was still far enough into the sticks that his own onboard comms. would be unable to reach the now east coast based chopper.

But it also meant that as long as the bug kept moving, he couldn't hack a land line. Which he would need to reach the west coast based Snots.

So no cavalry for him either.

Which was much more likely then Blackout coming to help him should the situation take a turn down that direction.

The mustang's engine revved in what could only be descried as a growl.

His processors hurt.

Trying to calculate the ramifications of his actions had thrown a wrench into his gears like nothing before.

He was a Decepticon.

A proud to blow your planet up for the fun of it Decepticon and here he was traipsing along with I love everyone and everything even if they want to kill me Autobot.

Why?

His frazzled processors were failing him. Sure he was board and maybe a tad lonely but still. There had to be a more substantial reason.

He cut across a lawn, hitting a deer statue and knocking the head off. Doubling back onto the road he had just raced down. Driving at a more sedate pace and following the direction of his sensor ping.

Turning off this road and going past a store labeled "Jon's Groceries." that could hold a max of 20 cars in their parking lot. The houses on each side of the road were small, with a fair amount being trailer homes. Turning off the street and on to what the dusty sign said was a highway that wasn't much bigger then the residential street. It wasn't long before he drove past Billy's Gas and General store and spotted the yellow do-gooder in Miss Evangeline's Motor lodge's parking lot.

The two flesh bags were in the office and the Camaro was parked next to the only other car in the lot.

It would take him roughly 24 minutes to kill all human life in this town and give or take 10 more to off the yellow pain in his aft.

Depending if he held still or not. Which he would bet on the "not" part.

The lodge was made out of brick painted a sun bleached grey that still had traces of the original blue under the eaves and sat at a angle to the street. Driving past he noticed the lack of WiFi and the beep of his comm.

No, just no.

He could be calling in the others now, somehow, strangely he doubted it though.

Barricade still wasn't going to power down next to a mech that until recently was his mortal enemy.

Take up a position where he could monitor the bot and hopefully glean a few bits of recharge and fuel.

Without his human cargo and probably a freshly filled fuel tank, the bug could outlast him. He was reading out at 23% charged, and his struggling processor needed a chance to sort things out.

Just because he opted to play road games with a fellow warrior that obviously enjoyed a speed challenge did not mean he was going soft.

Primus he hoped he wasn't.

Secure knowing the insect would not abandon his charges in this po-dunk town, Barricade cruised down and out of the small blip of human infestation. The road once again flanked by massive fields of produce. The great water trestles moving as they misted the crops. Farm houses surrounded by heavy machinery and with multitude of outbuildings popped up now and again.

Not quite what he was looking for but close.

A little farther up he spotted the original farmhouse. Old and decrepit left abandoned in the middle of what was now a wheat field. Barn bowing out next to it with the front door laying out in in the overgrown yard. Yellowed curtains pulled out of broken windows flapped in the wind and a rusted heating fuel tank sat against the rotting house.

A quick scan told him he had found what he wanted.

Lunch.

The tank had about 2 inches of fuel in it out of a thirty gallon capacity. Dregs from unfiltered home heating oil probably close to 20 years old. A good vintage in his opinion. Going around back and transforming in the overgrown shrubs that hid the rear of the old farm house from the fields, he snaked a clawed hand around the corner and snatched the fuel tank. Ripping the rusted out lines and the stilt like legs off it then using his claws to punch a sipping hole in a corner.

Tilting the awkward oval container up and taking a long swig of the thick fuel. Barricade sputtered, not used to ingesting 2 home heating oil let alone one that was so old its hydrocarbons had not only fallen out rendering the fuel useless for the humans purpose but it had separated in to various grades of sludge.

Swirling the metal tank he heard the chink of rust chips against the side.

A gnawing hunger sprang out from his fuel tank.

Rust chips. When was the last time he had rust chips?

Most mechs shied away from them as they were defiantly an acquired taste and normality he did to. But now for some reason as he stood in the warm Nabraska sun he wanted some. It didn't take long to find more rusted out items for his brew. A few old nails, bits of barbed wire, some chunks of the old house's tin roof all found its way into his container.

Primus he was going to regret this later.

Shaking the concoction then sipping from his corner. He sputtered and heard his fuel pump, made of much stronger things than these human efforts, dice the metals into flecks that his spark could melt down and burn off. Or to use as raw components to mend his almost healed wounds.

Maybe that's why he had the urge to consume this sludge. His spark needed more material. He had been with out proper energon for so long he no longer had the reserves to rebuild himself. That must be it, he already had to forgo the black and white police car paint instead going with a solid black to hide some of the lingering imperfections. Strutting over to the slowly collapsing barn, he downed the rest of his caustic cocktail. Transforming, he found a corner and started to power down for recharge. The bugs blip hadn't moved.

Not that he cared if the aft hat eluded him.

His comm. beeped incessantly, warnings flooded his HUD and a groggy scanner sweep informed him that the insect was parked next to him. Barricades processor took a moment to comprehend this. Another to correlate and tabulate and after about a minute he lurched away from the yellow camaro. Hitting the wall of the barn and struggling to grasp why.

Slowly the required logic circuits came online and he let himself roll away from the wall. Declining the comm. invitation and clearing the warnings that clouded his HUD.

The groggy Mustang picked up a frustrated rev from the Camaro blocking his exist as the passenger side window rolled down.

"I'll keep you my dirty little secret"

(Dirty little secret

)"Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret"

(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)

"My dirty little secret"

"Who has to know"

The song cut out but the window didn't roll up. Without comms. there was no real way to communicate when in vehicle form aside from the radio. Still it came across as kinda sad. But he got the notion of what the insect was trying to convey and reluctantly opened the comm channel that pinged.

"What, not calling in the rest of the troops like last time?"

He had known that eventually it would come to either them killing each other or calling in there respective factions, or ex- quasi factions in his case.

"No. I didn't think that was necessary."

The voice was rough yet young and uncertain and had static creep into the end.

"Not Necessary because you can kill me all on your own or not necessary because you are a twisted spark of a samophlang."

"What? No, if I called you in then the twins would just… and I didn't think that you were… and and."

Static

Barricades insides were quivering. His own voice was rough from disuse but he was certain he hid the amusement in it well.

"and what Bug?"

The yellow sports car shifted his tires.

"Mama always said life was like a box a chocolates, never know what you're gonna get."

What ever amusement he had at the bugs inadequacies vanished.

What was that suppose to mean?

He wasn't in the mood for head games where it was his head the games where being held for.

"Move insect, this is 37 kinds of idiocy."

Bee stayed put, blocking the only way to roll out of the dilapidated barn.

Fine then.

Barricade revved his engine and rammed the blocking car, not getting much speed what with only 3 feet between them. Bee's fender buckled in and he lurched sideways but stayed put. A distinguished voice came out of the radio.

"You know what the scariest thing is? To not know your place in this world. To not know why you are here. It is awful."

Barricade paused, processor whirling.

How did he know?

Anger welled up inside him. How could this coddled scrap of tin plating know what it was like to be so… lost.

He transformed so quick he barely made a sound and slammed his fist into the hood. Whipping his claws out and latching on, he dragged the car out of his way. Barricade stalked out of the barn startling the 2 humans sitting on the old houses porch steps.

Night was fully on, with the moon over helm and the stars lighting up the sky. Instinctually he picked cybertron out from the twinkling masses.

He should kill them all.

He should.

The chirr of transformation and he turned to face the now bipedal insect.

"I walk a lonely road,

The only one that I have ever known.

don't know where it goes,

But it's home to me and I walk alone."

"I walk this empty street,

On the Boulevard of Broken the city sleeps,

and I'm the only one and I walk alone."

The song cut out and the blue eyed Bot looked nervously at him.

So the frag head thought he knew something about loneness? His claws flexed and the thought of not only the last three weeks, but of Blackout and the betrayal of Starscream. How, really he had been alone since Mission city.

How he diligently went on that scorned mission to find the bot's because it was something to do.

Anything to do.

And really it was Starscream, betrayal was the only thing he did half way decent.

Should of saw it coming.

What of Blackout?

He had the word of the shiftiest mech in existence. And yet he believed him that they would do something about Starscream. When, since the chopper was a flyer, he was ok with tin bird club. But it gave Blackout leverage over him.

Any other mech would have shoot to kill orders on him, so if he wanted to deal with the Decepticons, he would have to deal with Blackout. Who aside from the sick amusement at his expense that was expected the whirly -gig had a thing for slick mechs.

Barricade felt the carving of Blackouts name on his spark casing. The decree of ownership proclaiming just what the helio thought of their partnership.

The bug just stood there watching him as his processor finally added up the last few weeks into something sensible.

The Autobots did not want him dead, or even severely damaged, aside from the twins. The Primes words sprang to mind, only 180 of cybertronians still existed. How many could he pick out and name?

How many would give a damn about his predicament.

Right now just the annoying yellow one in front of him.

"Where are you slag suckers going?"

Bee looked to the humans then back to him.

"I'm taking them to collage on the east coast."

He turned to the two flesh bags, they had stepped away from the house and were ready to run if needed.

The sight warmed his spark.

"This is hardly the best course to the get there efficiently."

The male, arm still in sling from the encounter at the bridge spoke up.

"We thought we'd, you know, tour the country and yeah."

He could sense the fear in the meat sticks voice, how he placed himself between Barricade and his female companion.

"Yes, very scenic spot here, I can see why you chose to visit this wondrous location."

Bee's radio sprang on.

"I got a jar of dirt, I got a jar of dirt."

Sing-song out of the speakers.

He smirked. In a way he missed this sort of interaction. Teams bantering with one another, it filled the long silences between missions.

The human was sputtering and Bee transformed back into car mode. Cruising over to the pair and opening his doors in invitation.

He watched as the doors swung closed and the bug rolled up next to him, windows lowering.

"Life is a highway,

I want to ride it all night long.

If you're going my way,

I want to drive it all night long."

Followed swiftly by "Second star to the right, and then straight on till morning."

It was probably the second most insane thing he's ever done. But he transformed and followed Bee to the road. Both of them kicking up roster tails before hitting the pavement with a long screech of peal out.

Where ever he was going at least he wasn't going alone.

Dirty little secret- Sung by All American rejects.

You know what the scariest thing is - from Unbreakable said by Samuel l Jackson.

Mama always said - from forest gump said by Tom HanksBoulevard of Broken Dreams- Sung by green day

I got a jar of dirt- Pirates of the Caribbean said by Jonny Depp aka Cpt Jack Sparrow

Life is a highway- sung by Tom CochraneSecond star to - from Disney's peter pan.

a samophlang- from Thundercat's, look up the bloopers.

A/N This chapter is a bit short, sorry bout that. Trying to get back of track for where I want the plot to go. It was fun to do all of Bee's sampling and I look forward to doing more now that Cade has a wandering companion. Also, if Fanfiction eats my formatting drop me a line or something. Looking back at that last chapter hurt my head. Only the first few lines were formatted correctly.

As always reviews make my day and if there's something you think Bee should sample, tell me. Happy reading.


	12. History

Lesser evil

Chapter 12

History

* * *

The fire cackled and popped as it slowly consumed the logs at its base. The moon lit faces of Mount Rushmore watching over them as the two humans snuggled closer together in their shared sleeping bag.

3 days.

He honestly thought he would have killed them by now. Bumblebee at the least. Yet, the yellow Autobot sat in a light recharge on the other side of the carefully controlled blaze. He could kill him now, with no noise just a swift twist of his energon blade. But he stayed seated.

He was weak.

Barricade wasn't really one to sit and reflect. But all the situations and feelings he had shoved down into the pit of I don't Care hadn't gone away, hadn't lessened the sting of them. And the more of them he gathered the harder it was getting to ignore them. More and more often during quite moments like this, they crept in. Making his processor race and his emote center burn with the unexpressed emotions.

The black Mustang shuttered and twitched in the flickering fire light as his self test mode worked its way through a full self scan. That wasn't helping either. The last three days he had been dragged out of recharge with the insect parked next to him. He had made sure there was at least a good 10 clicks between them when he finally dropped in to recharge the last time. Even with all his anti ambush programs and Primus knows Bee just didn't have the capabilities to get the drop on him under normal circumstances, yet the fragger had managed to get within striking distance.

It didn't add up.

Or what it added up to was he had a glitch. At least when you added in the constant ravenous hunger for strange metals and feeling off kilter after coming out of recharge.

All the hallmarks of Spark leach.

Nasty little fraggeres. They attach themselves to ones spark casing by using their natural neural buffer frequency so you can't feel it as they gnaw a hole in it and literally drain your power and alter a few core programs that make it hard for the host to detect.

Rather embarrassing. Truth be told.

A Transformer STD.

He probably got it from Blackout.

Which made him want to go find the over spun helicopter and rip several things off him. He still owed him one after all.

The ugliness in the Pit of I don't care reared up at the thought of seeing Blackout again. The fact he wanted to.

Not just because he would finally see another Decepticon after all this time.

This was why he was weak. He liked being around Blackout and it hurt in inexplicable ways to not be near him.

Barricade jerked his arm around to snag another log and tossed it on to the fire with such force the embers scattered.

One started smoking on the corner humans sleeping bag. Deftly he swatted the red hot wood chunk back in to it rightful place and gathered up the remaining embers as well.

He had been in shock after the frag head had supposedly perished in Mission City. But Decepticons are tough and he wandered this asinine country for three months evading capture because he was so mentally numbed to everything.

He felt nothing so nothing could hurt.

He could say that now.

It was the only way he could have possibly even thought of aligning himself with the flying tin ego. Not seeing the fall he was walking into.

Then this mess.

Hind sight is always clear.

But it didn't give him any answers to his problems.

Only things he wished he could shove back into his internal pit and never have to face.

Idly he lifted his clawed hand to his face and traced the contours with the side of a talon. Stopping when he touched the tip of his pronounced chin and powering down his tired red optics. Every solenoid in his being wanted to recharge, but he couldn't interrupt the scan.

He was a fool.

A slagging fool.

Blackout was not going to help him.

He was Blackout for agony's sake. The conniving, back stabbing, volatile mech that was a damn good Decepticon. Not so much an ally. He didn't help mechs, he used them.

Barricade let out a tight chuckle.

Yes, he was getting used.

He had been for quite some time. The constant back and forth between them. Blackout jumps or attacks him and eventually he retaliates. Which Blackout will have to return at some point. Now the circle has evolved so that all Blackout has to do was contact him and he would come running. No revenge motive needed. To save the Decepticons from the evil Starscream and get back in to the fold with the Decepticons.

Not that the flyer didn't deserve the sudden and abrupt end.

But it left him tied to the whims of Blackout, who knew what being part of the Cons meant to him.

Slowly he powered up his optics.

The last few weeks he knew this, instinctively he knew the chopper was up to no good. But he still did what he had said.

That was why the chopper was laughing the last time.

He had called, and Barricade came running.

The firelight flickered and popped and he glanced over to his camp site companion. Bumblebee was looking at him with those Primus awful blue optics. He didn't have a covert agenda. Well perhaps, but it would be nothing like the one Blackout has schemed up.

That was why he followed him.

Chased actually.

The bug was simply there and didn't want anything in return aside from the lack of destruction. He hadn't jumped him when he had the chance, hadn't tried to off him in his recharge, hadn't even called in to his superiors to report him.

It was different.

And why he didn't leave.

"You alright Barricade?"

It was the female human, wrapped up in the sleeping bag and the male.

"You just look, I don't know, Sad."

He scowled.

"A meat stick is hardly an adequate judge of anything Cybertronian."

She sat up, pulling the sleeping bag back and wormed out from under the males arm.

"No, but I can tell when a friend is upset."

The scowl deepened.

"I am not your friend."

"But you are distraught."

The male mumbled something and rolled over.

"What I am is of no concern to you."

Bee chimed in, in that stained voice of his.

"You are here with us, you are bothered by something so it bothers us."

"If you try to hug me, I Will kill you all."

Ladysman let out a groan and sat up next to his female.

"It's way to early to play Dr. Phil."

Silently he agreed and from the lack of retort from the others they must of as well.

"Good, now let me sleeeeeeepp."

Ladysman flopped down grabbing at the other fleshy, who deftly defended herself and got up.

"Barricade, you've followed us for 3 days, and while it has made the drive more interesting what with you running us off the road every chance you got, but you haven't really tried to kill us since the farm. What gives?"

She sat on one of the large logs placed around the fire and crossed her arms.

The wood shifted in the fire, sending up a trail of glowing embers up into the dark sky.

The Autobot let out a hash of static as he tried to modulate his vocalizer.

"The Decepticons have abandoned you."

More static.

The scowl grew into a grimace then broke after a few moments.

"Yes."

His claws dug rents in the dry soil and he looked away into the nearby trees. Something broke inside him, not physically, but it was like the glass that held together his hope that he could one day rejoin his cause had shattered into millions of imaginative shards.

That one word stung more than any plasma round.

He had admitted it, that gave it a finality. He was not part of the Cons anymore.

It burned from the inside of his core and shot through his power lines.

He wasn't a Decepticon.

The female had one dainty hand over her mouth and a strangely concerned look across her face.

Not that he was any judge of human emotes.

Bee hissed and sputtered as he tweaked his voice box and the fire crackled and popped. A few owls hooted but that was all.

Still the flood gates had opened inside him and the questions screamed through his internal systems.

What now?

Join the Autobots?

Get asylum?

Return to Blackout?

Following them around had simply been a procrastinating tactic to avoid having to think about this. Every thing since Thundercraker in the junk yard had simply been him failing to cope. He'd been holding out. Hoping that some how he could do something, then hoping Blackout would not act like Blackout and pull through.

But he knew better.

"I will not ask you to join the Autobots."

He pulled his head up to look at the struggling to speak Insect.

"It would only be insulting to someone that cared so much for his cause ZZZZZzztztztz."

A pained look crossed Bees face plates and he rubbed his neck cables like that could help the problem.

Ladysman yawned and slowly rose up, wrapping the sleeping bag around him before taking a seat next to his mate.

He picked his ear in the awkward silence, before perking up and asking a question.

"You know, every time I ask one of the others they always dodge the question and Bee is not up to a long monologue, but why did the war start? We got the whole Megatron rose to power and tried to take over thing from Optimus. But Bee said you support your cause, what cause? You guys are fighting for more then the joy of carnage?"

He didn't want to talk right now, he wanted to slink away until it no longer hurt. After a few moments he got the tightness in his vocalizer to fade as the question forced him to think about something other than his predicament.

"How is it that you know nothing of our war yet you take sides?"

He was glaring at the Autobot, mostly for effect.

"Well you did try to kill me, and a whole bunch of other people."

There was a sour note to the humans words as he gestured to his cast bound arm.

"So it was simply just a mater of the 'enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"

The human jumped to his feet and gestured wildly at him.

"What! No! The Auto bots are about trying to save lives and freedom and maybe that's how it started out but don't think for a second that we got duped into taking a side!"

Bee's radio cut in.

"Chillaxe man, no need to upset the old ticker."

Ladysman thumped down on to his log and the female patted his cast.

Barricade shifted around and leaned on a tree that bent under his bulk, bringing him square in front of the fire instead of skirting the edge of the clearing.

"We were fighting to save lives and freedom."

Bumble bee hissed and popped in a negative sort of way.

"And how would you know about that Bee? Your young enough to still be obligated to your creator!"

The blue optics went wide and the insect turned away.

"Your still ARE aren't you!"

He let out a rolling laugh, the autobot was still considered a youngling by conventional norms. Bee stomped his feet and shook his head, declining the accusation.

"What's he talking about Bee?"

Static cut through the clearing, silencing the Decepticon and forcing the humans to shield their ears. Bee had both hands wrapped around his neck as sparks jumped out from between his fingers.

Barricade saw the flicker as the Autobot tried to remove power and shorted out. The static barrage continuing as he got his feet under him and in one clean move was across the camp site knocking the malfunctioning mech to the dirt. He removed a shoulder panel, exposing the shorted relay and clamped a neural buffer around the lines that operated the vocalizer.

The harsh static died off as Bee slumped down into a forced reboot. Optics dark as his power grid made emergency repairs. His vocalizer must had been hard wired to the main feed line and he would need to stay powered down for the duration of the repair.

"What have you done to him!"

Both the humans were at Bees side the female peering into the open panel and the male glaring at him from her side.

"Its OK Sam, he's in reboot. That's all. He'll snap out of it soon."

With a snort Barricade turned around and resumed his position against the tree, shifting to get comfortable and checking up on the status us his own scan.

76% complete. Soon he could recharge.

The humans looked uncomfortable, standing next to the prone form of their protector.

"So what were you talking about, him being obligated to a creator or something?"

His tank grumbled a low contents protest that the flesh wads could hear.

Always hungry.

Sure sign of a leach.

Frag it all, yet another thing he didn't want to deal with.

So he would divert.

"Its part of our social system. A newly minted mech is beholden to the ones that make him until he earns back the cost of his manufacture."

"How douse one pay off their creator?"

Barricade shrugged.

"How ever the creator wants him too."

"How did you pay off your creator?"

He stalled as images of red hot metals being poured into molds flashed before him. No matter how long he lived, the factory would always be seared in to his memory.

"I worked for him."

Bee stirred, distracting them from continuing as his blue optics flashed on. Nimbly, almost like she'd done it before, the female removed the neural clamp and tossed it to him. Barricade caught it and tucked into his med kit mounted on his leg.

"You never said you were under aged. Bee, I thought we were friends and you keep something like this from us. Jeeze."

The voice was static ridden and painful to listen too.

"Age has nothing to do with it."

Bee made a gesture with his arm, like he was waving Barricade on to continue for him.

"That was why the war originally started, meat stick. A single mech could mass produce countless workers, that until he granted them their final codes, didn't have any rights. Greed is a universal trait and some would do anything for credits. Including forcing the newly minted to work in slag pits so they could turn out what ever would sell. I worked in a factory churning out Primus know what for a 1000 of your earth years before one of the other workers snuck out and stole the codes."

He was shouting, even after all this time, he was still angry about the injustice of it.

"Couldn't you go to the police? Prowl worked on the defense force or something like that."

He shook his head and continued.

"A lot of the mechs in the factory died without seeing the outside of the walls. The few that by some miracle managed to earn their codes, didn't have any other skills then what the factory had them doing. They came back as foremen or skilled laborers earning a true wage. That left the rest of us with the slag jobs and if one perished they just used his parts to make another to replace him. After we used the codes and got out, the Magnus and the Primes didn't want to hear about the injustices, because the factories paid for the energon that was being imported from other planets to feed the massive work force."

"A catch 22."

He nodded.

"Megatron was doing something about it."

The static voice leapt in.

"He wanted to attack other planets to get energon."

"It would of worked, we could have had the energon we needed without the factories working to churn out crap for other species just to make a buck. Cybertron went to the slag pits when they stopped regulating who could use the Allspark to create new mechs."

Bee was glaring at him.

"It wasn't like that for everyone."

"It shouldn't have been like that for anyone."

He was glaring at the yellow mech, like he embodied the ideal that had subjugated him.

In a way, he did.

And the return glare let him know the feeling was mutual.

"So they were like slaves. They had to work without pay, without any rights until they earned something that wasn't likely to happen. Sorry Bee but it sounds like you'll had an ass kicking coming your way."

The yellow Autobot got to his feet.

"Were the factories wrong, yes, should you have destroyed everything and everyone in your way, no."

"It got the point across."

Bee lunged across the clearing, tackling the former decepticon. The tree snapped under the added weight and Barricade rolled. Kicking out and struggling against the enraged Autobot. Bee punched and thrashed and the duo rolled across the clearing. Scattering the fire and taking out a few more trees as the humans tried to avoid everything.

His blades snapped out and he diced the extended arm, Bee jumped back and powered up his cannon.

"Tell them why the war went on for so long."

Even with his mask down the Insect still looked to friendly to be intimidating.

He laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"Because Megatron betrayed everyone. The irate factory mechs were heavily armored and used to dangerous conditions and made excellent cannon fodder. He gave them a focus and a direction and stepped back watch the results. He was the Lord Protectorate. It was his job to make sure riots didn't happen. So he gave up all the info they needed to make it work. Then after a few strategic places were hit, he brought in mechs like Prowl to 'hunt' them down, to bring them to 'justice'. Any of the mechs that would of stopped there were 'caught' leaving just those that would follow Megatron regardless of the reasoning. We became his strike force. Either by deceit or force a new order was going to take over Cybertron and Megatron was going to lead it."

Bee's cannon was shaking and he could hear the long intakes of air as the Autobot forced himself to cool off.

"You knew it went political after the riots. You were part of Megatron's Elite Guard, you hunted and killed any one that didn't agree that he should lead Cybertron."

He matched Bee's glare and raise him a smirk.

"Yes, we all knew it was no longer about the factories. We never came out and said it, there was no mass memo to inform us. We found out along the way, but by then what were we going to do? We had nothing left after the factories burned, no skills to try to pass as a trade. All we had was what Megatron wanted us for. It seems silly to you, because you had something to lose, we had nothing."

Bee stood there trembling in rightful rage and he slowly brought himself to a crouch.

Wait for it.

A human emerged from the tree line, pulling leaves and pine needles out of her hair.

"So why do you keep fighting if Megatron is dead? Cybertron is almost uninhabitable and there are not many of you left. Why not just stop?"

Bee turned to look at her for just a split second and just like that Barricade was in front of him. Slashing the guns feed lines and sending the bot tumbling to the ground. Pinning him with his own plasma gun charged and pressed to the yellow one's chest.

"Because after all this time, it hasn't changed. Without the Decepticons, we have nothing."

"But your no longer a Decepticon."

"I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING!"

His other hand gestured to the stamped out camp ground.

"So evolve and go forward."

Ladysman was standing near Bumblebees head, arms out stretched in front of him, one larger then the other due to the cast.

Barricade looked down at the all to killable Autobot, there was fear in his optics. That was nothing new for him. But this was different, it bothered him and the fact he was bothered by it bothered him even more.

Barricade jerked away and stalked to the other side of the clearing. Watching as the bug slowly got to his feet and sat next to the now extinguished fire.

After a few minutes the humans had it going again and a few massive yawns later crawled into their sleeping bag.

After their breathing had evened out soft music began playing out from Bee's radio. Reaching him from across the way.

Imagine there's no heaven, it's easy if you try

No people below us, above it's only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today

Imagine there's no countries, it isn't hard to do

No need to kill or die for and no religions too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one

He shook his head, it was a stupid song. Still his gaze wandered upward, finding the dim glow of his home planet.

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger a brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing for the world

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one

You may say I'm a dreamerBut I'm not the only one

Take my hand and join us

And the world will live, will live as one.

The restarted fire was low on the embers as the song ended. It was a stupid song. One that the Autobots probably had adopted as their recruitment theme.

It was sad really.

Bee shifted out of his semi ready for battle stance and he too let his guard drop. There was no reason to drive off, the fragger would just find him. The night was well on and even the owls had stopped making noise, silence gripping the campsite.

He shiffted, his scan was nearly compleat and with a defeted growl he fired up his radio. Finding a station and let it play. Chasing off the silence that had begain to haunt him.

His scan notified him it had finished and he transformed, a wave of exhaustion overtaking him. Dropping him into recharge almost instantly.

His radio still playing into the night.

* * *

A/N So this one is a bit longer then normal, and I had to redo it twice to get the feel I was going for. Its hard to explain if you've never been part of something, but the lost feeling after you get out of it, its overwhelming. Lets just say, 6 months latter. I can honestly say getting out of the navy, not at my behest. Broke my heart. It's the worst break up I've ever been through. Its hard to give it up, even if there was a chance I could get shot.

Oooo cheap therapy lol.

Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review.


	13. into the unknown

Into the unknown.

* * *

He was aware, vaguely, of the road passing under him and the pines whizzing past. He was moving, but that was nothing new. Always moving was part of his life. His existence was based on the principles of constant motion.

Yet this was wrong somehow.

With a shutter he jerked his tires right, trying to hit the curb but was pulled straight before impact. Barricade growled low in his vocalizer and let the gray cloud inhabiting his processor to take over. The trees stopped ripping by and the road no longed seamed to touch him.

It was warm and dark and he was so very tired.

Voices, garbled, human and quite close pulled him out of the haze again. Then the splash of something cold hitting his empty tanks and getting sent directly to his spark forced the fog back.

He was along side a gas pump and the damnable human female was leaning on him as she filled his tank. Worse yet his sensors picked up a rope tied to his front frame that was connected to the Insects rear frame.

He had been towed.

Of all the indignities he had ever suffered, ever, this was the topper. If his transformation sequence was active he would rip out his own spark. It already felt like he had. It felt like his internals were on fire. He must have run dry and from the rattle echoing out from his crank, seized his pump.

Still he flexed against the burning sensation, shifting on his tires as the cold fuel sloshed into him.

Pain was an old comrade of his and was never that far away.

The human male was fidgeting with the rope, tugging at the knots in what looked to be an attempt to get them to release.

Fighting to urge to lunge forward and crush the meat stick between him and Bees aft, Barricade shifted his forward armor plates. Slicing the rope cleanly from his frame and letting it fall to the ground with Ladysman none the wiser.

Every iota of his being wanted to throw it in reverse and not stop until he was back in vector California. The gas pump chinked rhythmically as it brought fuel up and poured it into him and the female was humming something softly.

The black mustang heard the comm. request and declined it.

Embarrassment burning as bad as his seized pump, Barricade started up his engine and flung into gear. The female stumbled as he gunned it, pulling the nozzle out from his side and hitting Bees aft fender. The grey fog rushed in and he stalled before clipping the cement anchor for the gas stations price sign. Plastic numbers falling onto his hood as a man in overalls charged out of the dingy shop.

"What in hell was that? Are you drunk bitch or just stupid?"

The female had rushed over to his door and stood between him and the gas station manager as the man steamed up to her.

"Hay, don't talk to my girlfriend like that!"

"Well teach her to drive this beat up piece of shit!"

The man slammed his fist down onto the spoiler mounted on his trunk, denting the metal.

"Don't touch my car."

"Don't you shove that finger in my face! You left the damn thing in gear and hit my sign!"

The scrawny human Ladyman put himself between the female and the burly man in the overalls.

"How much?"

The female threw her arms up and stalked next to his front bumper, folding her arms as she looked over the damages the impact caused. The fog drifted in and out as his higher processes demanded more energy then he had available and pulled from his core shutting down some of the lower processes, like external awareness, down.

"Listen we don't want any reports filed or anything, so how much for the sign and for your trouble."

"Not the first time she did this then. No wonder that mustang is as beat up as it is."

The female pulled back the sleeve of the loose grey sweatshirt she wore and ran her fingers over the damaged area.

"Can you move?"

He wasn't going to dignify it with a response but he couldn't get enough power to even put himself in gear.

"No."

"Now you come with me son and we'll discuses the financials and I might just impart your skinny ass with some advice on how to keep your woman from crashing in to things. If I like you that is, and right now I don't. Let's see how much is on that card of yours and I might like you a bit more. Come with me."

Ladiesman followed the man in to the shop with a backwards glance to the female. One that even he could interpret as; if I'm not back in 15 minutes please come save me.

For a small dingy gas station it sure had plenty of business. Each of the 6 pumps had a vehicle next to it, aside from the one he pulled away from, and all of the flesh wads were watching. A man in a newer pick up left his truck and approached the female still standing next to his bumper.

"Well now, it happens to everyone at some point. No reason to look so sad about it. I mean the cars not totaled. The fender and bumper needs to be replaced but from the looks of things they already did."

Barricade flinched at the words, call him vain but he always rather like his appearance.

"Perhaps you should jump in and make sure it still starts, that nothings jostled loose or something."

"We're getting it towed, thanks for the advice though."

"Ah come on Princess can't fool me, why were you putting gas in it if you were just getting it towed?"

"It's Mikaela and we wanted to see if there was something wrong with the gas that was making it act odd, guess not."

"Well Mikaela, oh shoot that's my pump. I'll be right back."

The pump next to his truck was spewing out receipt paper and chinking wildly. He had enough mental function to pick up Bee's signal inhabiting the malfunctioning pump.

Didn't know he had it in him.

Looking at the shop then to the man pounding on the fuel pump, Mikaela opened his door and sat down. In one fluid motion she had him started and lightly revved his engine before putting him in reverse and backing away from the sign.

He should be disgusted and he was, mostly at himself for not being able to do more.

"Jut don't kill me, ok, Barricade."

The words were barely over a whisper and it deepened his level of disgust with himself to know that he couldn't even do that.

She had him stop in front of the store and Mr. Pick up truck sauntered over and leaned on him.

"See sweetheart no real harm done."

Ladiesmans shot out of the store and went straight to Bee.

"Now if you need a real man to teach you to drive, I work at the shop just off 5th street."

"Well, thanks."

Barricade picked up the venom in her voice that from the grin plastered on this fools face he mistook for sugar. Bee pulled away and Mikaela had him follow. For the first time since arriving at this mud ball planet, he obeyed every traffic law and light and even went wide to give someone on a bicycle room.

The embarrassment still burned and the lack of power haze still wafted around.

Again he declined a comm. request.

He wasn't the type of mech to talk about his problems. Not to smug Autobots or any other sentient life form. That stuff last night, that was, was venting.

They left Cedar Rapids and stopped at another gas station to fill up before hitting the Interstate. Barricade had to admit it felt nice to have a full tank for once and as the miles passed under his tires power returned to his functions.

He jammed the throttle and jerked around Bee's yellow aft. Roaring up along side the Autobot and pacing the peace loving skid licker.

Mikaela took the hint and let the steering wheel slide through her fingers with out resistance and backed her feet off the pedals.

His sensors picked up an increased heart rate and sweat starting to form on the brow of the human occupant.

If he could have gagged he would of.

As it was, he was fighting a mean case of the heebie-jeebies. He served a little as her arm contacted his door rest.

"Could I listen to some music while you drive?"

Her hand shot out to touch his radio controls and he lost it. A sonic blast echoed out from his speakers as he braked and served wildly. Hitting the rumble strip then the grassy shoulder and flinging his door open. Bee shot passed, but had managed to slow and get over a ways ahead. Unsuspecting traffic roared dangerously close to his open door and the human scrambling to get out.

An air horn bleated out a warning as a big rig approached. Barricade jerked as the horn sounded again, closing his door out of the path of the truck and knocking the female back inside as he rolled a bit farther into the grass.

"MAKE UP YOUR MIND BARRICADE!"

He was gaining speed and swiftly approached where the yellow bug had stopped. Mikaela straightened in the seat and rubbed her bruised ankles as he came to a stop behind the yellow scout and opened his door again.

"You're sure this time?"

She huffed before stepping out and going to the passenger side of Bee. Only to find the door locked.

"What the hell bee, come on!"

She pounded on the glass as the grey sweatshirt fell off one shoulder and the male already inside the yellow one was leaned over and gesturing wildly.

Whatever was going on wasn't his problem.

Mostly, he refused to let it be his problem.

Bee was the meat herder, let him handle this.

A few cars honked as they zipped passed and Mikaela started flipping them off as her one sided argument with Bee's door continued.

He was feeling better.

Talking last night had somehow made it feel less damming. He wasn't a Decepticon anymore. It still stung, but he could say it. Blackout was still an aft- headed slag pot simmering with deceit, but that was really nothing new. He was still torn though, parts of him still wanted to run to the last set of co-ordinates at the designated time the twirling blades of a slag siphon had given him.

Just to see him.

The other part knew why said slag siphon wanted to see him. To have his fun with him, because he could, because that's the only thing Blackout ever wanted from him. There was a mutual respect for each others battle prowess but him no longer being a Decepticon annulled that.

Still he wanted to go. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy it, most of the time.

His door opened and admitted a fuming Mikaela.

"Drive to Mexico, or Canada or where ever just get the hell away from those two immature assholes."

Barricade growled and slammed into gear pealing out in the grass before rocketing away. Bee was not that far behind but gave him enough room to convey that this wasn't a race. The female was leaking, tears welling up out of her eye ducts and down her face. Yet another strange anomaly of human anatomy that disgusted him.

When she wiped the wetness away and a droplet landed on his seat, he almost stalled.

The sudden chug surprised him; he wasn't this sensitive about anything. The inhabitants of Rethor -5 were oversized sentient amoebas and made one hell of a mess when shot with plasma rounds, that didn't bother him. Why should this?

The spark leach.

It wouldn't have any use for organic based substances clouding it fuel host.

Now there was a reason to see the chopper again. To rip his spark out for giving him this blasted thing.

Barricade opened the protected data file containing the info from the full scan. The other drivers on the road weren't doing anything overly unexpected so he diverted his primary attention to the contents of the file.

Rooting around to figure out where the leach was drawing the most power from. A sure fire way to find out what part of him needed to be disassembled to find the little sucker.

His spark, not good, in fact the worst place to have a leach.

Barricade took over for his auto drive and took the ramp heading south, for Chicago then resumed his perusal.

The draw seemed to be coming straight from his spark, not from any item on the outer vessel but from the spark itself.

That wasn't right, couldn't be right. Spark leaches would be burned up and used as fuel by the spark if they ever breached into the core. The never ending fusion reaction would have destroyed anything that came into contact with it. That was how he could consume raw metals and have it converted to power.

How was it pulling more than it should? He was a finely tuned machine. He could go in to stasis for thousands of this planets years and wake up fine because of the balance maintained by the spark. They supported themselves, only when he used power did he really need to consume fuels.

"Can you turn on the radio please?"

Mikaela was sitting with her hands in her lap, looking despondently out the window. Growling he flipped through the stations and found one with a strong enough signal he wouldn't pass through its range for a few hours.

She was quite while he contemplated his problems. The interstate heading generally due south and the insect a few miles back.

He didn't understand.

How in the seven vectors of the pit could he be so out of balance and be using more energy then what his spark could naturally produce. It wasn't feasible.

He didn't have any new power sucking attachments. His body and frame were not too big for his spark's output. He was driving down the road within 5 of the posted speed limit for pits sake, why in the great frag of the unmaker was he pulling so much power?

There!

It was hidden in the codes, so small and seemingly insignificant he looked over it twice already. A strand of basic coding that had been activated.

His passenger started to sing along with the radio. The sudden noise pulling his attention away from the pertinent data.

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you  
I wish nothing but the best for you both  
An older version of me  
Is she perverted like me  
Would she go down on you in a theatre  
Does she speak eloquently  
And would she have your baby  
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

He cut the noise off and Mikaela sang a few words before letting silence take over. But it was short lived.

"Why are men such jerks? They only think of themselves."

She sniffled and whipped away a tear.

"Oh so you're not talking to me either Barricade, Great, wonderful. I'm just a little tweeting bird to be ignored."

She was pouting as she stared out the window. Tears rolling down her face to hit his arm rest and seat.

He started to weave with nausea.

"STOP!"

Mikaela sat bolt upright in his leather seat and the wetness dripped onto her lap.

"What Barricade, stop what?"

"Leaking, you're getting it on me."

He had to modulate his voice to hide the sound of his rolling tank.

"It's called crying."

"Cease, or just leak on yourself."

"Jeez, I didn't take you for such a xenophobe."

It felt like he was going to have to jettison the fuel in order to stabilize himself. But then he would have to get re-fueled again.

"I'm not."

"Ok, Right so I can do this and it doesn't bother you."

She wiped her face with the gray sleeve and rubbed it on his dash.

He went in to the grass and overcompensated, rocketing back into and through three lanes of traffic.

She was screaming and pulling on the steering wheel as he barely missed a SUV. In the grass on the other side he throttled back, slowing as his engine hiccupped in intense displeasure.

He needed to power down. It was the only way he could think of to not have to jettison his fuel.

"DRIVE!"

Mikaela let out a wavering breath and repositioned her hands on his steering wheel and brought her feet up to connect with the pedals.

Allowing her inputs to register, he dropped power.

.

.

.

.

A quick scan told him he was in a hotel parking lot, next to the dumpsters and with Bee parked ridiculously close to him. It took a few more moments before his GPS relayed he was on the out skirts of Chicago.

"You have a power leak. A bad one."

The window next to him rolled up and his comm. chimed. With a growl he answered.

"I know."

"It's not a leach, its almost like your casings cracked, but that isn't quite right either."

A chill danced across his circuit board, the insect had been scanning him, looking into his nooks and crannies when he had been powered down.

It bothered him.

A lot.

But if he could get his power to stabilize it might be worth having his personnel space scrutinized. That thought alone made him speak about what the file contained.

"It's contained in my spark but the spark itself has divided… fragmented and the pieces are pulling more then the whole."

There was more then that. A build up of waste metals along the bottom of his casing and the rerouting of lines to facilitate the change.

He felt the scan, with a buffer codex in an attempt at not being so invasive but it still made him shudder and triggered a few alarms.

"I can't register it. Your plating is too thick."

He was normally thankful for that. Not showing a spark signature really helped when you didn't want to be picked up on defensive scanners.

Yet now, he kind of wished he could just be scanned and get it over with.

But the only alternative was even worse then a scan.

There was no place in the parking lot that provided any cover and with a protesting gurgle Barricade managed to get in to gear and pull away from the Best Western. Bee followed him around and onto the connecting road.

It wasn't too far until they found a semi trailer depot. Empties scattered through the yard and a few butting up against the worn unloading dock. A scan showed a single human was in the facility, sitting at a desk stacked high with papers in an office with clouded windows. Barricade never really kept up with this planets time, but it was late. The sun was setting into the trees that blocked the view of the yard from its neighbors.

He pulled into a cluster of trailers and transformed.

Feeling good to be on two feet rather than four wheels he turned around and had to catch himself on the closest trailer. Power fluctuating he sunk to his knees and let his helm rest against the cool side of the trailer.

Bee pulled him away and Barricade pulled back, stumbling to get the Autobot to let go.

"Stop, just for a second Barricade."

He dimmed his optics to stop the swirls from affecting him so much and held still, hearing the gravel shift as Bee kneeled down and at the tug, opened his front armor panels.

He was exposed, spark to the world. Alarms sounded and he twitched incessantly every ounce of self control going to not shutting the panels. The Auto snot could run him through right here and now and there wasn't a damn thing he could do but die.

His hand blade slid out, glowing dimly red, just in case.

Cool fingers ran against his heated spark casing, rubbing over Blackouts carved proclamation of ownership.

He shuttered. The intimate touch sending his tanks into a gurgling fit of revulsion. His hand curled into fists and slowly his blade leveled to strike.

"You need to see this Cade."

His optics fired up, burning red reflecting off the painted trailer sides. Bee was very close, hands against his chest and a molten white sensor line crept out from the yellow armor plates on Bee's fore arm. It paused before snaking along his arm and on to Barricades.

He should have pulled away, but he didn't. He let the sensor line creep in between his panels and mate against one of his own.

The crackle of energy and the smell of ozone wafted up as Bee synced with him. An open channel appeared on his network and watching the face so close to his, Barricade activated it.

There was a moment of disorientation then he was looking at his own face. The black angles and pronounced chin set upon his rugged and damaged body. He growled in annoyance at the damages and heard the sound from body he looked at rather than the body he was in. He took the opportunity to log the surface damages that were not high priority. Some were month's old, never having healed. Evan more were newer overlapping the old in a crisscrossing network of reworked metals.

Over all, he looked fragged.

Then the view dropped lower to the open chest, he couldn't express how vulnerable it made him feel in that moment. Not only was his chest open, his consciousness had fled. Then he saw his spark. Pulsing, glowing dimly in the fading daylight. It was no longer spherical as it should have been. It had elongated, becoming vaguely egg shaped with the bottom sporting a mess of metals all heaped on top of each other.

The vision shifted from optic to infrared. The mess of metal was hollow with heated wires running through the hodge-podge and attached to a clump in the center. The clump seamed to be attached to his spark.

No not to his spark, to the fragment of his spark that had sunk down to the bottom and was warping the casing out of shape.

Then it moved.

Barricade sat frozen as the small whatever moved jerkily. He could just make out a roundish bit of metal at the top and 4 spindly attachments to the central lump. It was the lower attachments that were moving.

The vision blurred as Bee severed the connection and he returned to himself.

His hand shot up to cover the mess up metal congregating at the bottom of his spark.

"What is that?"

He looked at the crouched yellow mech in front of him. The Autobot shook his head and raised his shoulders, equally stumped. He had never heard of anything like this. It was obviously some sort of parasite.

But fragmenting his own spark? It was a strand of basic code that triggered the division. A stand that according to his data log, had been present since his first on-lining.

So it couldn't be a outside parasite, it was all him.

He closed his panels with a shutter.

The yellow helm still so close to his own tilted as he picked up a strong internet download signal and a moment later a course chuckle bleated out of the damaged vocalizer.

Blue eyes flashing in wonderment as their optics met.

"You're pregnant."

* * *

A/N Right so as much as I like explosions and what-not, relationships are sometimes as equally intense and can burn much hotter. If only I could write them to any sort of standard. Well here goes. No worries, things will still go 'boom' there's just some deeper emotions :P


	14. Chapter 14

Lesser evil

Chapter 14

Influx

* * *

Pregnant.

He had to Google the word to find out what it meant.

Images of small humans and time tables showing varied developments and then the videos.

Oh Primus, the screaming and then a blue gray fluid covered blob being removed from either the groin or being pulled out of a swollen belly, then more screaming.

He shuttered and dimmed his optics as a wave of nausea overtook him.

NO, Slag no.

Cybertronians did not reproduce like that.

They didn't technically reproduce at all.

Replicate was a better explanation and without the cube, wasn't possible.

He heaved, gas from his fuel tank filling his mouth and he forced himself to swallow the burning fluid back down.

Barricade reached out, steadying himself on the nearby trailer. He was pulsating, chest rising and falling with each forced intake of cooling air. An error message flashed across his HUD and despite being firmly grounded the dimmed world blurred and spun around him.

A yellow arm caught him before he hit the gravel and he purged all over the Insects chest. The corrosive fluid seeping in against the moving gears that he now had a close up view of.

He was literally in the arms of his enemy.

He purged again.

The blues and pinks of partially processed energon tainted with streaks of gasoline a violent clash against the bright yellow and black paint scheme of Bumblebee. On instinct he shoved his still active, but dim energon blade into the supporting arm. There was a yelp of pain and the arm pulled away.

"D-don't touch me."

Barricade wavered for a few moments then crashed to the gravel. The rocks felt chilled against his heated panels and he was fairly certain the ground was not spinning like his sensors insisted.

Off lineing his optics fully Barricade curled up, digging trenches in the gravel lot and forcing a fair amount of dirt into his armor.

Pregnant.

He would have rather had the spark leach.

One of his hands found its way onto the plates above the new life and he could detect the tiny gaps in his armor the growing bulge had caused.

This was not what he wanted.

At all.

The internet provided all sorts of information on gestation and reproduction and Jerry Springer going on about You Are Not The Father. This was all too new. He had no idea how to even figure out how long he would be stuck with this thing growing in him.

Did he even get to keep his pro nouns or would he have to start referring to himself as a she?

"You should return to the base with me, after I drop Sam and Mikaela off at college."

Barricade powered up his optics to glare at the mech sitting next to him.

"You need a medic and the little one inside you needs you to consume more energon then we can attain out here."

There was logic there.

Not that he normally cared about what others thought he needed. But the stab of truth made him see it.

He needed help.

But not from them, even if he was no longer a Decepticon he wouldn't go running to the Autobots for help.

Not now, nor ever.

"No."

The yellow one slumped a little.

"Then what, Cade? We as a species need you and the new one to survive. You're the only one of us who's ever managed to get knocked up."

The words triggered a memory from the Pit of I don't care. A single thought that rose from the black depths of his core to send a chill down his spark.

The femme project.

With the all spark gone they had no way to make new mechs. So Starscream had tried to alter the programming of some prisoners to see if it was possible to make a female version of a Transformer. All that he managed was some sad sorry wrecks with twisted frames and burnt out sparks.

But the idea was sound or so Shockwave had said. They needed to do something because with the death rate as it was, it would become more and more of an issue and it got Starscream doing something mildly constructive.

Build a few brood mothers and keep them churning out offspring to fill the ranks.

Barricade shuttered.

He never liked the idea, even more so now.

And going to the Autobots like this? Optimus knew they were low on numbers, what would stop him from forming a similar program?

"Barricade?"

The black mech lowered his helm as his fingers continued panning over the barely detectible rise in his midsection. There was a life there. It was hard to grasp the concept of a new, not reformatted or restarted mech, but a never before known being who, according to the internet, was made from pieces of him and Blackout.

His spark tugged at the thought of the helicopter. How would Blackout take it?

He sunk the thought and pushed it away.

Blackout would utilize him for what he needed, maybe not in the same fashion that Starscream would, but the mech only ever had his own intentions at heart.

He felt a pressure on his shoulder panel and jerked his attention to the yellow 'bot that pulled his hand away quickly.

There was concern in the blue optics and all at once he hated it, then relished the companionship then wanted to smash the face until the colors flickered out.

What was he supposed to do now?

"I don't know."

The words were barely over a whisper.

Everything was swirling around him. Not just the sensors that where failing to adjust to the change in programming the little one was causing, but his world, his wants and aspirations.

One second he wanted to rip the newly sparked from his chest and go back to Blackout and beat him with it. The next there was a warm smolder in his spark when he thought about the new spark. How the he could feel the tiny movements and wanted nothing more then to protect and care for the little one. How if anyone even thought of hurting it, he would destroy them.

It had only been moments since he'd found out about it. Yet he wanted to protect it so much the thought of it coming to harm sickened him. Everything he'd read so far indicated that this… this new spark would need protecting and care and more everything then he ever had to give to anything

Then the abject horror of what Starscream would do if he ever found out chilled the smolder. His partner wouldn't be of his choosing, Blackout was bad enough, but the traitor wanted flyers, jets, like him. The thought of Starscream touching him, trying what he and Blackout had done that night on the mesa made his spark run cold.

Yet the worst part was that the tin can would turn it around and make it about him. That somehow the femme project had been successful. That this was yet another reason the Decepticons should be led by him.

His talons etched lines into the dirt. What of the little one? The screamer would want warriors. The thought of carrying it for however long then slapping a blaster into its hand and sending it off to war screamed at a set of sensibilities that had been installed when the program activated.

He couldn't do that.

The thought of seeing this mech, this little one, killed so quickly made his spark sink and moisture gather at his optics.

Primus, he had gone soft.

And… and pregnant.

The mustang turned his face to hide the welling moisture. There was no hope at all for his return to the Decepticons. He would not do that.

He would not condemn the new life to the death that promised.

Any new life he created would make his own choice to fight, or not to.

It was the least he could do.

It was why he was fighting after all. To have an option other than what is decided for you.

There was a pressure on his shoulder. When he looked up, Bee pulled his hand back again. The yellow Autobot was sitting near him and at his lack of a response returned his hand to Barricades shoulder. Rubbing small circles on his heated plating, not saying anything.

It helped. Disgustingly it helped sooth the tempest raging inside him.

In the last 5 minutes his life had changed eternally.

There simply was no going back.

To the Decepticons.

To Blackout.

And here was this stupid, aft headed, pit scorned, peace loving Autobot trying to comfort him.

His bark of laughter echoed off the trailers and died in the depot lot.

Bumblebee paused and let his hand fall away from his chassis.

"We should go, the trucks should be coming in soon. Do you want me to go get Mikaela?"

He could drive on his own, now that he wasn't trying to counter the program, things had settled down. The world wasn't tilting at strange angles via his sensors at least.

"Yes."

The bug pulled away and transformed. Heading for the hotel where the humans were stashed. Barricade waited until the taillights were out of view and transformed. Enacting his sensor jammer, he headed out in the opposite direction.

He was still a black mustang and was visible to the human eye or optic, but not to sensors.

He appreciated the insect.

That was bad enough.

But he needed to think, to do, to drive until it made sense.

Because he really wanted it to make sense.

And he was the one who had to live with the decisions he derived from it.

The mustang tolerated the traffic and passed the onramp to the Interstate. It was a toll road on the south side of Chicago that he couldn't take it anyway. Past a Wal-Mart and a Safe way, his wheels took him to a subdivision where the houses sat measured intervals apart and were of three or four basic designs. They were nice, he supposed, even with the for sale signs posted in almost all of the manicured front lawns.

Ideal suburbia, intended for families.

The thought sent a stab through him.

An image of him and Blackout and the little one crept into the corner of his consciousness. No mater how well he knew the mech was no good for him, he couldn't get him out of his processor.

The fragging over pulsed blender motor was stuck there and Barricade wanted him now more then ever. The easy smile and dark laugh, the sheer power that he wielded and yet only harmed those he wished to inflict harm on.

Blackout could protect them. The chopper had always come to his aid, why wouldn't he now?

Because he had nothing to offer in return.

Just the new spark.

It already meant the world to Barricade, but to Blackout?

The road wove around a park with swing sets and slides and he turned down a cul-de-sac. Heading to the last house, a magnificent brick building over looking a man made pond with a fountain in the center spraying water in a circular rain. Barricade didn't care for the sound when he hit the curb and crossed the front yard. The house next to this one had never been finished. Wood structures sat graying in the fleeting sunlight a testament to the time left out in this planets weather.

He pulled around to back porch, transformed and sat down.

His processors buzzing as he poured over everything.

Bee, Blackout, the new life and how it could be handled by the Autobots or Decepticons. His thoughts chasing themselves until darkness crept into the shy, the sunset reflecting off the pool of water and no lights turned on in the houses when the ambient light sunk low.

Alone he couldn't take care of this new life.

As much as he wanted Blackout, he couldn't risk it.

He needed help, horror of horrors that it was to even think that.

But he did, he couldn't even get gasoline on his own and he was a fool if he thought he could scrounge up enough old home oil or hack a power line and get enough for not just him, but for the little one.

It wasn't only about him anymore.

The little one needed him to make the right decision.

His comm. had been beeping incessantly ever since he activated the jammer and Barricade relented.

Transmitting just his co-ordinates and shutting out the connection again.

Bee was on his way.

He tried to not feel relieved by the fact the Snot-a-bot was coming.

There really was only one way for this to work out. For him to take care of the little one and to not end up part of some scheme to make more.

He just had to think it through, to weigh options. To see for himself there was no other way.

Bee clunked as he went over the curb and Barricade didn't bother to look up from his little pile of misery he had made himself when the yellow one rounded the corner of the house.

The humans exited and the bug transformed. Sam and Mikaela flopping down on a bench that was made into the porch railing as Bee positioned himself next to him.

"I will return to the Autobots with you."

Voice contorted with his conflicting thoughts, his helm sunk lower into his supporting hands and his internals were a tight knot.

"Barricade it's not the end of the world."

He snorted at the females words. She was designed for this, he wasn't and it might as well be the end of his world.

"I have a request."

Static crept into the voice and he looked up to see the unwavering blue optics close enough for him to smash.

"Can I get a copy of the codes?"

Barricade shook his head. This mech had slag for timing.

"Why?"

"ZTZTZTttttttzzz"

Barricade cocked his head at the Autobot, who looked rather embarrassed at the moment.

The female huffed and stood up.

"Because he wants to be a legal adult so he can claim he sired the new spark. That way none of the other Autobots would try to, oh jeezz I don't know, try to get with you."

It struck a cord, deep within him. If he had to pick one mech to have sired a new spark with, it still would have been Blackout.

Now that he was giving up any and all hope to ever be even on the same faction as him, the idea that he carried apiece of him with him was comforting.

And they wanted him to throw that away too?

Anger flooded in where confusion and fear had once resided. His talons unsheathed and he flung himself at the mech. Grabbing the arm thrown up to protect the yellow face and jerked it too throw Bee off balance.

He would never say the new spark was half Autobot.

Ever.

Bee stumbled and the Autobot's foot crashed through the wooden planks of the porch. Fists flue forward and connected with the yellow helm and chest in quick succession. The last punch knocking the entrapped Autobot to the planks of the porch that collapsed under the immense weight. Suddenly freed, Bee flipped and rolled, ripping rents into the turf as he got his feet under himself and stood up, offering up his hands in surrender. A tone issued out of his radio beeps going high to low. His hands gesturing in time with the beeps and all saying calm down with out speaking.

"Barricade! Stop! God I said that all wrong."

The female was at his knees while the male dashed to stand behind his dented protector.

"Listen! Please! We know there're not many of you left and that this is a big deal. But if you go to the Autobots and say it's a Decepticon they might not like it. Why would they help you raise more mechs they have to fight? If you say it Bumblebee's then they'll accept it and they'll leave the matchmaking out of it because they'll respect the fact your with Bee."

He glared and she threw in.

"Even if you're not really 'with him', with him."

He turned to glare at the Autobot still locked in a semi crouch then to the small flesh creatures that the mech protected.

The Autobots would protect their own, would honor the 'relationship' he had with Bee. The sentimental fools.

And that 'relationship' with Bee would prevent anything like the femme project from even getting started.

That had been his lasting concern with rejoining either faction. He didn't want to be a brood mare.

And he would always know that the new spark was Blackouts.

Even if he never told anyone.

"You would do that?"

The yellow helm nodded and he felt the tension flow out of his system. Draining him until he felt empty. He was empty, the gas the human had given him had been used up already and he abruptly sat down on the wrecked porch.

He knew what would happen if he returned to the Decepticons and what Bee was offering was much, much better then what he'd hoped for.

Not that he'd hoped for much.

"Fine, I will go along with it."

Bee nodded again and walked up to where Barricade sat. Positioning himself next to the Mustang and opening an information port on his upper arm.

He opened up his onboard codex and found the universals he had downloaded from Crank all those vorn ago. Barricade let out a single interface line, the brilliant white cord sneaking out of a gap in his armor near his elbow tracing its way to Bees open port.

He had helped out dozens of mechs get free of their creators and he never thought he would still be doing it, thousands of vorn later on a planet so far from Cybertron.

To an Autobot no less.

The transfer took only a few moments and a reboot from Bee.

A silkily sweet human voice came out of the Autobots speakers.

"But I, I don't feel any different."

He snorted and retracted the interface cord.

"Wait till a hot aft comes along, and then tell me you don't feel different."

"So that's it then? I mean one download and he's a man, err 'bot or whatever?"

Sam was leaning on a section of undamaged rail with his arms crossed and an odd analyzing look on his face.

"Oh what, did you wake up on your 18th birthday feeling like the world changed because suddenly you were a 'man'?"

The female had returned to the bench and swatted at the male.

"No, I felt like a man waking up after the first night I slept with you."

Sam caught Mikaela's hand as she swatted at him again and pulled her close to kiss her. Falling slowly onto the bench with him overtop of her.

"HAY, YOU GUYS! ZZZTztztztzzZZt Get a room, why don't cha?"

Barricade felt the electric snap as Bee hacked the homes security system and cleanly broke the lock on the sliding door behind him.

"I don't know Bee it's not our house and…"

"ZZtttzzzztztz A lovely 4 bedroom 3 bath home in upscale Dumont's Park. New construction, be the first to own this wonderful property with views over looking a maintained lake. ZtztztzzZZZtt"

"Ok, Ok."

Laughing they got up and went into the open door that Bee closed behind them. Lights flicked on and cast sparkling reflections off the now dark water. The sound of the fountain and cicadas and farther away, traffic washed over the black mech, his hand finding its way onto the slight rise in his midsection.

He would go along with Bee because it was more important for the little one to survive then it was for him to be happy.

Not that his happiness had ever really been a consideration.

Ever.

Bee stomped out onto the sloping lawn that ended in a stonework retaining wall against the shore. The bug paced back and forth a few times before positioning himself away from the house and the recently planted trees to get a clear view of the sky.

His comm. chimed and Barricade opened the channel finding that he was patching into a encrypted frequency that rendered him mute, but could hear as Bee sent out a request to Optimus Prime.

:: Prime here. Bumble Bee you're late on the status update. Sam's parents have called twice. ::

His tank rolled at the voice and he cursed the large red mech long and hard before remembering that he could only listen in. Bee's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter and he failed to respond right away.

:: Bee? ::

:: My apologies Optimus. We are fine, if detoured and delayed. We have encountered Barricade. ::

:: What were his last known co ordinates? Bee, do not engage him, he may be damaged but do not underestimate him. ::

There was a pause and Barricade felt smug hearing the almightily Prime say that.

:: He is here with me now. He has asked for asylum. ::

:: Bee it could be a trap! ::

:: No, Optimus there's… its… Please bring Ratchet, we will continue to the human collage to drop off Sam and Mikaela. It is a little more then a day's drive, we will meet there, as planned. ::

:: Bee, Stay at ZZZXZHASDUJDmdZZZssstsaz. ::

The signal cut out and Bee shook his helm to clear it of the feedback hash. Dropping the connection Barricade saved the encryption frequency.

Just in case he ever needed to hack the communications.

"He doesn't trust me."

It was the first thing today that made his spark felt all warm and tingly.

"No, but he will. Give him time."

Barricade snorted and doubted the Prime ever would. He would never trust the Autobots and they would never trust him. It was a known factor in his crazy life and he wanted to stay that way.

Bee sat down next to him on the porch and kept looking at him then the darkened water then back at him.

"Do you trust me?"

Barricade shook his helm.

"I trust no one."

He was starting to wonder if that was a lie. He had opted to not kill this mech an awful lot lately. And Bee was the singular reason he was willing to return to the Autobots.

That was trust.

And he'd shown the yellow scrap his spark.

It had taken several dozen vorn for Blackout to convince him he wouldn't plunge a knife into him as soon as he cracked his case.

Sure Bee had wanted to help him and Blackout had wanted to 'face him.

Barricade huffed and rubbed the side of his helm, all this thinking was making his processors ache from continued use. His hands felt heavy and he knew he would have to recharge soon.

All it seemed he did anymore was sleep.

And eat.

And think.

And for all the weakness that he had shown, the bug hadn't left him for dead or stripped him of his usable parts. Or even shot him.

Primus that was weird. He should have been shot already, just to keep up appearances.

His prominent chin tucked against his chest the black mech felt his power waver. He should transform to conserve energy but he had spent far too long on four wheels. It was nice to have to opportunity to actually recharge in his robot form.

Sure it wasn't as secure.

But he knew Bee would make an attempt to stop someone from slicing his lines as he slept. Which should be enough to pull him out of recharge to defend himself.

He leaned over and brought himself down to lie on his side. His helm close to the Insects leg and Barricade paused when an animalistic noise rose out of the house.

His sensors fired up and almost immediately he shut them off.

Stupid organic humans and their mating rituals.

Bee shook his head and shrugged at his glare.

Settling down again Barricade started the recharge sequence. Power dropping, the haze of recharge overtook his systems as a hand started to trace the multitudes of interconnecting panels on his upper shoulder.

The light caresses at first triggering his anti ambush programming making him twitch each time he was touched. Then the fingers danced on the edge of glass in his door wing that made up his sensor net. Unbidden he leaned toward the touch that sent comforting pulses to his wearied possessor and countered the inputs registering about the human's activity in the house.

"I trust you Bug."

He did.

It was horrible.

But he did.

The hand paused for a moment then continued the soothing movements as he dropped fully into a recharge state.

.

.

The world jarred back into focus as he impacted the ground and rolled twice, dirt and turf flying up around him. Barricade came to a halt against the recently planted trees. The supporting lines tangling with his legs preventing him from flipping around immediately as the chirr of rapid transformation echoed between the houses.

Kicking to clear himself of the lines Barricade rolled and got his feet under him.

Bee was pressed against the house, yellow helm even with the gables and there was a solid 4 feet of air between the bottom of his feet and the ground.

The Autobots hands seemed to be grabbing at nothing as he was violently slammed against the house. The brick crumbled and windows broke, the humans screamed and he brought out his fusion cannon and leveled it to where he thought Bees attacker would be.

The air snapped with electricity and rippled in blue, purple waves. He shot 5 rounds in quick succession at the heart of the ripple. The wave flared blight and like a sheet being pulled off a showroom car, the cloaking effect receded revealing their attacker.

Blackout.


	15. Mine

Mine

To Luck-of-the-Irishmen, Yes, Thank you. I may not be particularly responsive, but I appreciate the words of encouragement.

* * *

Blackout glared at him as he pinned Bee against the house. Pure unadulterated rage wafting out of the crimson optics as the Insect tried to pry Blackout's hand off his throat.

Slowly Barricade lowered his weapon and the giant returned his attention to the struggling Autobot. Blackout adjusted his grip on Bee and with a roar the massive mech twisted around and threw the Autobot toward the faux lake.

Bee flipped end over end twice before hitting the dirt in a cloud of soggy brown loam. The chopper rose majestically into the air and when the Insect stopped sliding on the tore up turf, dropped. Landing on Bee's leg and crushing the appendage before using the momentum of the fall to deliver one pit slagging hard punch to the chest plates.

Silently Barricade watched the carnage from his position at the trees.

The humans had made it out of the house and were screaming.

At him, at Blackout and in general.

Emotions twisted and flooded through him, spurring him to level his weapon at Bee then at the Helicopter then to drop it again.

Blackout fired his fusion cannon, somehow missing the injured Autobot that struggled to fight back and ignited the unfinished house on the adjacent lot.

He wanted them both.

He wanted the support and friendship that Bee offered and the completeness that Blackout was to him. He wanted to chase the Yellow mech down highways and run him off roads and fight and talk and interact and have one being in the entire universe that wanted to just be there.

No strings. No agendas. No worry of an impending dagger to the spinal supports.

But there was Blackout too. He wanted to see the light glimmer off the golden seams in the mechs rotors. To feel the massive arms wrapped around him, holding, providing a different kind of support. To connect with a mech on such a primal level and they never spoke of it, but they wouldn't be dancing around each other if they didn't want to.

Blackout would have shot him.

He would have shot Blackout.

His black claws clenched over the slight bulge. It wasn't just about what he wanted any more. It was about what they needed.

They needed energon, stability, and mechs that wouldn't slag them from behind.

Bee could offer that. Had offered and he had accepted.

The yellow Autobot ducked under a punch and caught Blackout in the side with a few point blank rounds. The helicopter turned and let loose a massive EMP. The blue wave scrambled Barricade's internal signal for the moment it washed over him. The mind fragging feedback screech forcing the Mustang into action.

The EMP knocked Bee into the burning building, the yellow Autobot lay skid up as the flames consuming the unfinished house flickered around his prone form. Blackout leveled his cannon with the unmoving Autobot and Barricade lashed out with his flail. Knocking the cannon out of trajectory just as the weapon fired.

Blackout turned to face him, red optics burning.

"Is this what it comes down to Barricade?"

The basso voice dripping with hate as the mech glared him.

"You're mine, runt. Or did you forget?"

The Helicopter snatched the retracting flail and pulled, unbalancing Barricade and forcing him to take a few steps toward the towering Decepticon. He planted his feet and braced against the pull of the retraction motor. Steam drifted up from the over taxed winder and just as the oversized blender was about to jerk it again, Barricade jettisoned the entire weapon.

Blackout stumbled at the sudden loss of tension.

"How could I forget, YOU engraved it on to my spark casing."

Bee found his feet and fired twice into Blackouts back. The force field protecting the mechs rotors flickered purple as the energy was absorbed.

The helio turned and rapid fired around the hobbled Insect. The blasts destroying the main support structures and the burning house collapsed on to Bee in a shower of red embers.

Slag-tastic.

He should have known better then to trust an Autobot to not get slagged.

Bee had better be good at saving his own aft, because heroics were so not his forte.

Distraction was the best he could offer.

"It doesn't make me yours."

Barricade danced away from the burning ruble and fired into the side of the enraged helio. Knowing where to hit from the countless times he had felt the gaps in the armor as he clutched onto Blackout's sides during interfacing. He knew what made the mech moan and squirm and that hitting those spots with a plasma round elicited a very different response.

"The only way you ever got some aft, is by forcing it."

The helio jerked his attention to Barricade, his full wrath bearing down on the Mustang. The behemoths fists clenched and the piercing glare shifted momentarily. Barricade's spark plummeted, he knew that look. He was burning this bridge.

No mater what Blackout was to him, he couldn't be it anymore.

"I never wanted your sick, pathetic excuse for interfacing."

His face plates set in a hard glare, as he kept his cannon trained onto Blackout's vital bits.

"I was never yours."

The betrayed look on Blackout's face melted into something else. Something darker, something that made Barricade falter for just a moment.

"J-just go. Blackout I'm not going to be your 'face toy. Go frag someone else."

"You don't know what you're doing."

Barricade sneered.

"Yes, I do. I know exactly what I'm doing."

He was driving him away, or trying to.

The fire had engulfed the entire building by now. Flames reaching higher then Blackout and embers drifted even higher then that. Still the Insect hadn't pulled himself out of the inferno.

He was almost worried.

If wasn't in the middle of ripping out his own spark he might have actually been worried.

The giant blender glowered at him then turned away to face the raging inferno.

Frag-gity-gity-gity goo.

Blackout kicked, sending a flurry of sparks up around him as he smashed his way through the blaze.

Rerouting max power to his weapon, Barricade leveled it with an inconspicuous node on the helio's shoulder. At the ready chime, he hesitated.

Until now he had been pulling punches.

At least when fighting each other, Bee was the recipient of a full scale skid kicking.

No mater how much he knew Blackout was no good for him, he still wanted him.

Wanted him in one piece.

Wanted the lazy smile and dark laugh.

Wanted the hurt look in his optics to go away.

Wanted the feeling of belonging that Blackout spurred in him.

The chopper pulled the forge red Bee out of the conflagration. Dragging the once yellow bot by the undamaged foot, the massive mech grabbed a plumbing pipe and sheered it off at the base. What had been the second story toilet crashed to the ground and shattered. Leaving the helio with a long hollow tube.

"This is what you prefer Barricade?"

The helio hoisted the injured Autobot up and he locked on to the power node.

"A pathetic runt? Do you like being the 'mech' in the relationship? Or perhaps you just like quick connects, like yourself."

He dropped Bee onto the lawn, the grass sizzling under the mechs charred frame and raised the lance.

"Maybe he would like to watch how real mechs get some aft."

Blackout drove the pipe through Bee's shoulder and deep into the sodden earth underneath. Barricade fired, the node reduced to scrap and the force field protecting Blackout's rotors flickered then dimmed.

Bright blue energon welled up around the pipe and dribbled down the Insects front. Barricade fired again, letting lose round after round. Peppering the exposed rotors with plasma and ripping the delicate array apart.

"I would hardly call you a 'real mech'."

Barricade tensed, waiting for it as he targeted the rotor blade mountings. The continuing blasts pushing the larger mech away from Bee.

With a roar Blackout crouched, then launched himself skyward.

GO!

The humans would have to help Bee.

The Mustang drove his shoulder through the damaged brickwork of the house the Autobot had been pinned against. Landing in the living room and tearing out a chandelier that hung from the apex of the cathedral ceiling. He never stopped moving and as the roof caved in from Blackout dropping onto it, Barricade punched through the front walls. Feet hitting asphalt, Blackout burst through the hole in the house. What was once ornate masonry rained down onto the front yard and the cul-de-sac. The house collapsed on the heels of the raging Decepticon and Barricade darted around another house further up the lane.

Peaking around and firing, then moving as that house was reduced to ruble with a blast from Blackouts main cannon. He felt his energon pumping and the heat from his weapon creep up his arm. This was what he had lived for.

Battle, chaos, death.

It didn't hold the same allure now.

Smoke and dust blocked out the light of the moon and choked his intakes.

If the humans could free Bee, and if he could transform then they could get out of here.

Barricade spotted his next source of cover and three steps away from the building he felt the tell tail rush of air as Blackout dropped.

Barricade threw his frame right and rolled, but the closeness of the houses boxed him in and prevented him from gaining the distance he needed. Blackout launched himself out of his crater and backhanded him so hard he went through a street lamp. Sparks shot up from the stump as his armor left gouges on the lane.

Blackout was over top of him in moments and he lashed out. Kicking, knowing he landed a few solid hits from the grunts and firing his weapon when Blackout recoiled from the blows.

With a roar the oversized blender kicked back, foot catching his side and barrel rolling him in to the house he had intended to use as cover. Barricade bounced off the corner of the building and went through a porch. The wood planking shattering on impact and showing him with splinters as his armor caught on the cement steps bringing him to a jarring halt.

The cop car struggled to his feet only to be punched squarely in the face plates. He rolled with the blow and countered the next one and the one after that. His arm guards cracking under the force Blackout put into the punches.

He kicked out, landing the hit but taking a glancing shot across his shoulder that spun him. Before he could correct his stance the helio drove his fist deep into his side.

His tank reeled and he purged. Energon leaking out between his lips as Blackout struck again. Barricade dropped to his knees on the wreckage of the porch and bowed over.

Purging until there was nothing left but a tight ball of pain in his middle. His hands wrapped around his abdomen as Blackout pedes entered his peripheral vision.

With one well placed stomp, or even a not so well placed shot Blackout could end him and the little one.

The thought dropped a cold lump into his spark.

He could lose the new spark.

No! He wouldn't let that happen.

He wouldn't give up.

He would find a way.

To get away from Blackout, to help Bee, to keep the little one safe.

And he couldn't do that cowering at the pedes of any mech.

The surge of emotion buffered the pain and he reached out to better support himself on the unstable ruble. Surprised and terrified at the streaks of energon that he found covering his hand.

"I tire of this game, Barricade. Your aft is mine."

The words ground out as the larger mech grabbed him by the shoulder mounted sensory panel and hauled him up. Using the awkward grip to keep him unbalanced enough to drag him back to burning house and pinned Autobot.

The humans had found a garden hose and were dousing Bumblebee with water, a steam cloud forming around the Autobot as the fire still raged precariously close. They retreated as Blackout approached, leaving the hose wedged in the Insects armor as they sought refuge near the tree line.

Blackout stopped a few paces in front of the pinned Autobot and pulled him so his back was against the helios chest. Wrapping one massive arm around Barricade and after a brief struggle, pinned the Mustangs clawed hands to his sides.

"You are mine, you worthless grounder. You say the only way I ever got some was through force? Is that true Barricade?"

The tone was sinister and purposefully loud enough for Bee to hear. Barricade twisted and fought against the arm holding him as the helio shifted and brought his free hand up to cup the Mustangs face. Lifting his chin and forcing him to look the pinned Autobot in the damn blue optics. The thick fingers tensed on his throat cables momentarily then skirted down his front.

Bee's blasted optics going wide as Barricade shivered against the teasing fingers on his chest. Blackout knew what made him moan and quake and yes, Barricade had found the mech to be a more then competent lover. He had to stop himself from arcing against the touches. His sensors pinned against Blackouts chest were already pinging from the charge building within the blenders spark.

This wasn't what he wanted.

It was, but it wasn't.

He let out a frustrated squawk and tried to throw his weight to get some slack in the behemoths grip. Bee hissed out an audio shocking bout of static and Barricade mule kicked the helo's leg.

"Stop it! You fragging raunchy scrap heap."

The helio growled low in his vocalizer, sending vibrations through Barricades sensor net.

Blackout shifted his footing so Barricade couldn't kick again and raked his free hand down the Interceptors front. The fingers that were teasing and caressing a moment before scrapping and bruising as they dug into any gap they could.

The contact nearly made him scream when it passed over the slight bulge. The hand paused at his obvious discomfort but still continued to travel south. Reaching the junction of his legs and torso the thick fingers tapped against his primary interface panel.

"Either you open it, or I open it for you."

"Blackout, don't do this."

The dark face turned into a scowl and the helio pulled his roaming hand up to knock Barricade across the face.

"YOU are the one who wants to throw everything away and join the fragging Autobots!"

Blackout grabbed his chin and forced him to look at Bee again. Then the deep voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

"You want him more then me. But it doesn't mater, you are MINE!"

Thousands of white interface cords eked out of gaps in Blackouts armor and wiggled their way under his. The cords linking up with any port they could find and when they were all taken, mated up again the wires themselves.

The sudden surge of data made his intakes sputter and his optics burn bright. Each interface cord demanded access to different parts of his processor. The multitude of requests swamped his core and wisps of blue smoke wafted out as his components fried under the intense over clocking. One by one Blackout focused his attack on different interlocks. Tripping circuit resets and forcing things to shutoff to circumvent the firewalls protecting them.

He reconfigured every firewall that and security measure remained and still felt the heavy weight of Blackouts blunt force hack warping his reality. A spike of pain came from his middle and lashed at his consciousness. With all of his firewalls configured to ward off the intrusion not pain, the sudden surge roared into his processor unbuffered.

The scream was silent, but violent.

He arched back then launched forward, fighting to free his hands so he could grab his middle. Thrashing when Blackouts grip only tightened. He felt his legs give out as what felt like a hundred thousand red hot needles jabbed themselves in to his abdomen. The helios arm supporting him fully as the tide of agony ended as abruptly as it started.

He hung in Blackouts hold, intakes cycling rapidly as the helio took advantage of his loss of concentration and shattered his remaining security measures.

Barricade fought weakly as the blender uprooted him from his own motor controls. Blackout ripping his personality programming and sentience code from their place at the helm of his functionality and throwing them into a locked secured file inside his own processor.

Separating him, from him.

Yet he kept him connected enough so he could see and feel what was happening to him. A high pitched whine was all he could make his body do as he felt Blackout open his primary interface panel from within his own head. He felt the bulk of the helio shifting behind him and that he was being repositioned.

No, he was repositioning himself. Blackout let his hands go, he had him by the diodes and there wasn't anything he could do.

He whined again.

Long and pleading. He didn't want to beg but this… what Blackout was about to do…

Barricade thought as hard as he could, knowing that the behemoth was intercepting even that.

_Please don't do this!_

The response came as a flood of rage and emotional hurt.

_Mine!_

The singular word intoned through every last connection and relay on him.

Blackout had him arch his back and lift his leg so his port was more accessible. His hands reached back to hold on to the helios armor for support as Blackouts thick, pressurized cord pressed against his thigh.

He whined again. The high pitched sound coming in broken sobs.

When Blackout connected to him, there wouldn't be a thing he could hid from the mech. Memory files and personal logs would be pilfered. The things in the Pit-Of-I-Don't-Care would be dragged out and he would not only have to deal with them but have this rusty interface hack know every last detail.

He would find out about the little one.

Barricade shoved that thought aside as quickly as he could so Blackout wouldn't pick it out of his processor.

The helio shifted and jammed his cord into the interface aperture. Blackout was big and normally it took a few moments for him to adjust his setting to accommodate the helios girth. Blackout didn't give him those few moments this time and his port strained from the abrupt opening. The helio didn't waist any time with and pressed on, seeking the imbedded port that would fully connect them.

There was no animalistic humping that the humans found so fascinating. Just constant pressure as Blackout pushed his way to the desired port and connected.

Raw, angry energy poured into him and crushed the locked on his memory banks. It spiraled and swirled, overcharging the buffers that regulated his energy levels and dumped into his spark like a lighting bolt on a flagpole.

It burned; this was supposed to feel good. Suppose to be a sharing of energy and companionship.

This was undiluted anger and hurt and lust and jealousy and he was drowning in his small little cage in his head.

He was overheating, his chest panels opening in an attempt to cool his spark.

A small warning flashed on his HUD. It seemed so far away from his prison and he couldn't see what it was. The charge building in his spark was making it hard to see anything. Bits of his own memories flashed by as Blackout rooted around in his banks.

The Helio had almost made it to the Pit, to where the information on the little one was stashed.

He panicked. For some reason he still didn't want Blackout to know.

Because the helio would never leave if he knew.

Barricade whimpered and whined but couldn't do anything else.

An image of Bee sitting on the porch and him lying down next to him flitted to the top of the raging maelstrom. For a moment he was sucked in, the feelings of companionship and of Bee's hand rubbing his aching shoulders panels washed over him.

He was jerked away as the little warning on his HUD became massive. The warning blaring and screaming so loud that Blackout stopped just in time for the gut wrenching agony to floor the both of them.

His firewalls were in shambles and there weren't any buffers strong enough to dilute the pain. Blackout tried to reroute it through him. The blender was made to handle massive communication loads and had firewalls equipped to handle the feed back.

It helped; it took the slicing edge off.

But it was still there.

Like molten slag was erupting from his middle. Burning everything as it dripped out.

He was sure he was screaming in his head, there was no way for him not to be.

Somewhere in the background of his interior raucous he felt Blackout disconnect and retract most of the interface cords. Leaving the ones that provided the pain buffer and letting him out of the cage in his head as he set him on the ground.

As he automatically reintegrated the pain intensified. His screams made it through his vocalizer and echoed off the faux lake. He arched then curled so tight his armor creaked. The slick smell of energon was chokingly thick and he could feel the rivers of it flowing out of his still open chest plates.

Blackout's massive hands forced him to uncurl and pulled his hands away. The intrusive scan hardly registering as he fought to curl back up.

"Barricade…"

The deep voice full of confusion as the scan completed.

Just like before, the pain ebbed suddenly. The screaming plethora tempered down to a few hollering pricks. Barricade fell slack on the trampled earth, utterly spent.

His intakes rattled harshly and he was whining. The sound long and high pitched, falling in octave and ending in a sob before starting again.

The helio rumbled above him, still connected by a dozen glowing interface lines. The large hand reached out to touch him, gently, on the shoulder. He flinched at the contact and tried to turn, to cover his open spark.

He hated being weak.

Hated being dependent on anybody for anything.

But mostly he hated the emptiness that he felt encroaching where the new spark had formed.

He felt the hot sticky energon coat his hands as they pressed against the forming lump.

It was failing.

Dieing.

Barricade couldn't stifle the sob that came out of his vocalizer, or the dozen that followed it. He felt Blackout's servos touch him again. Caressing his shoulder as it dipped under to lift him so his face pressed against the helios chest. Blackout's bulk lowered and shifted as the helio sat down. Arcs danced around the damaged rotors as they bent to accommodate the position and a shadow of pain came across the interface lines.

He winced, his pathways and electrical synapse felt raw from the hack and his firewalls had been utterly destroyed letting even that echo go directly to his processor unfiltered.

Blackout disconnected the remaining lines and pulled him so Barricade was fully in his lap. One arm supporting him while the other placed itself over the leaking bulge.  
"I'm sorry…. I…. Barricade."

The hand left the bulge to touch his cheek, thumb digit lightly caressing his lips as the behemoths helm dipped low to rest against his.

The wail of a far off siren broke the moment. Blackout looked up and shot a dirty look over to the pinned Autobot and human contingent.

"We're leaving"

Red and blue lights flashed in the distance and the sirens grew louder. Barricade felt Blackouts servos tense around him as the helio raised himself to his feet.

Bee squealed and pulled the pipe pinning him out a bit more from his chest.

"Shhhhhhhhzzzt Not shhzz Auto shzzzz bot."

Blackout turned to look at the mech, giving Barricade a good view as well. There wasn't much yellow left on him, and on the burned grey the splashes of blue energon glowed dimly in comparison to the fire burning bright next to him. His leg was mauled and the pipe still had quite a ways to go before Bee would be free of it.

He felt the vibrations of Blackouts growl as the helo turned away from his friend and took a step toward the lake.

Barricade pulled his hand away from the little one and placed it on Blackout's arm that supported his lower half. On the down step of the next stride his claws bit into the armor gap at the wrist joint and the helio dropped his legs.

"Not going without him."

Barricade fell to his knees, one arm securely wrapped around his middle. Every attempt by Blackout to pick him up again was met with claws as he shambled closer to his friend. He wobbled and stumbled; he refused to crawl but was barely managing anything more then that.

Blackout growled, never leaving his side.

"We don't have time and you're making yourself worse."

The sirens were closer and the lights started reflecting off the affluent homes windows.

"Not without him."

Blackout huffed and strode over to the Autobot. He grabbed the pipe and pulled. Both Bee and the earth under him made a sucking sound as it ripped free. The Insect pressed his hand over the energon dripping hole and rolled, trying to get to his feet despite the mangled mess that was one of his legs. The helio carelessly tossed the pipe aside and returned to Barricade.

He had stopped when Blackout left him and had let himself curl up.

Undignified.

Pathetic.

The massive bulk of the helio blocked his view but he heard the rattle and clank of his Autobot pal finally getting up. Blackout stroked his shoulder before reaching under and lifting Barricade again. Securely pressing the Interceptor against his chest as the behemoth started to walk, then run away from the burning house.

Skirting the lake and shouldering some older trees aside then crouching low as the fire trucks pulled up. The noise reached a crescendo then dramatically lowered as they skidded down the side of a hill.

The Insects clash of broken gears faded away as well as Blackout kept moving. Trees, some store fronts and a road or two passed by. Barricade couldn't gage how fast they were moving. Only that Blackout was warm and holding him.

The rock of the helios strides and the closeness or the blenders familiar spark lulling him to let his optics power down. One hand stayed on the troubled little one the other found a seam on Blackouts chest to hold onto as his helm pressed against his shoulder.

The warning flashing on his HUD made him whimper in anticipation.

Blackout slowed then stopped on the lea side of a Costco. A line of shrubs hiding them from the parking lot that extended out a considerable distance and the receiving area at the rear was well guarded by large trash hoppers.

His claws dug into the helios chest as the absolute agony began its pulsing course through him. Somewhere in the haze of pain he felt Blackout connect with him, felt the strength of the helios firewalls buffer the pain. It still wasn't enough to block it all and Blackout crouched down so he could let go of Barricade legs and press that hand against his mouth to muffle the raging screams of agony.

Blackout was talking to him.

The words lost to the pain that commanded every bit of him.

Then there were more voices.

Not human, thank Primus, but familiar voices.

He forced himself to rout power to his optics and saw Scrapers visage leaning over him as the Constucticon turned medic ran a full scan. Barricade's body rocked with the undulating pain as hands started moving on his frame.

Slowly the pain left him and he laid limply in Blackouts arms.

The time between bouts was getting shorter and the pain more intense.

The wheeze of his intakes felt like a monstrous drain on his power. His hands felt too heavy to move and the only noise he managed to make was a sad little clicking.

"Start an energon transfusion, he's low on fuel. Disconnect as much as possible, I need to see his stats not yours."

Barricade winced as his main fuel line was punctured. The Constructicon was decidedly close and Caterpillar yellow. No longer befuddled with hurt he looked over the mechs shoulder as a chilled hand pressed against his intimate areas. He could see Onslaught and Rampage standing close to the building watching intently and there was another mech that was just out of view.

"Barricade I have to knock you out, try not to bite me."

He didn't even have the energy to open his mouth.

The yellow hand reached for his face but stopped as the trash hoppers lurched sideways with a hearty screech. Every mech but he pointed a weapon at the newcomer.

Bee froze and let out a hiss of static as he raised his burned arms in surrender. The humans quickly dropped from his shoulders onto the trash bins he had stumbled against. He could feel the static in the air as the multitude of weapons readied and he clicked in horror.

His vocalizer couldn't form the words, the pleas for this not to happen.

Blackouts chest rumbled against his frame.

"Welcome to the Decepticons. Punk."

* * *

Hello, it's been awhile. I really wanted to get this chapter right, it's kinda pivotal and honestly I think the last bit is rushed. But hopefully the feeling I was hoping to convey is, well, conveyed.


	16. recon

Lesser evil

Chapter 16

Re-con

Lazy rain drops rapped on the blue tarp strung over him. The rhythmic beat of the rain shower on the plastic drowned out the hum of his intakes. Weak sunlight filtered in through the gasps in the hodge-podge of plastic strung around him and Barricade shifted and groaned. The grey tarp he laid on crinkled as the sand under it gave and moved.

Red optics flickered on and instinctively his fists clenched as a hand pressed on his shoulder panels.

Bee sat next to him. The shine of a fresh patch where the pipe had gone through him a sharp contrast to the primer gray of the rest of him. It was the Insects hand on his shoulder, rubbing those annoyingly comforting circles.

He lulled, optics dimming as recharge threatened to reclaim him. The hand stopped moving and just rested on his shoulder.

Damn those circles.

Barricade growled, mostly at himself and onlined his optic's fully to glare at the mech next to him. Bee squeezed his shoulder before removing his hand.

Barricades hands jumped to the bulge, seeking out the soft pulse of the new spark beating steadily under his fingers. The wave of emotion that rose within him crested and he rolled to the side and curled up. He could feel it. A light push, a tiny bit of pressure and a flicker of warmth.

Laughing, sobbing, shoulders shaking with joy and sorrow for what could have happened.

"Cade? You ok? Want me to get Scrapper?"

It took a few moments to bring himself under control.

"No, no I'm ok."

Bee leaned back, still watching him as he uncurled and took in his surroundings. Several tarps had been strung together. Blue and grey the most predominate colors, but green, red and purple plastic hung from the guide wires as well. The mess formed a tent, an utterly defenseless one that stood out way to much to provide much security. But it kept him dry and the tarp under him kept the sand out of his armor.

"Where is Blackout?"

"Starscream wanted to talk to him, he left a few jours ago."

A lump of disappointment formed in his spark.

"I should get Scrapper, I've been promised a hundred horrible deaths should anything happen to you."

Barricade turned to look at the scout.

"Who threatened you?"

Not that he was surprised by it. More that he was surprised that they hadn't done anything yet.

"All of them. Scrapper said he would keep putting me back together so they could take turns ripping me apart. They were getting rather creative… can you kill someone by ripping out their internals and shoving them up their tail pipe?"

His voice sounded wearied and the Autobot's shoulders drooped, yet his face plates belayed a grim humor.

Barricade checked his internal time and groaned. He'd been down for three days. To long, he needed to move. Rolling to his side, he tried to pull his feet under him and he couldn't stifle the resulting whimper. His midsection greatly protested the movement and he let himself fall back to the tarp. He forced himself to cycle air slowly to offset the throbs and spikes of pain lancing through him.

Bee scooted closer and Barricade set his head on the Insects leg as the mech started those calming circles on his back yet again.

The blue tarp slid aside with the hiss of plastic against metal, the collected rain water sloshing down the front of the Caterpillar yellow excavator. Who didn't seem to notice the trail of water he was leaving as it dripped off him. Scrapper knelt down and assaulted Barricade with cold hands over riding his spark chamber locks.

"I usually require a few cubes of high grade before I let someone at my spark."

The engineer turned medic vented air in what a human would describe as a harrumph. Scrapper continued and Barricade couldn't suppress a few squeaks of pain as the hands pressed on some still achingly sensitive components. Relief flooded through him when the mech clipped a small devise over the main neural lines going to his processor.

Barricade fell slack as the tension creeping into him vanished as the pain blocker took effect.

"Better?"

"Much."

He tried to sit up again. Still his midsection protested, but without the pain and both Bee and Scrapper helped him sit up.

"Don't overdo yourself 'Cade. It took a lot out of you. Here."

The larger mech thrust a cube into his hands. The blue/pink of partially processed energon glowed weakly between his fingers. The little swirls told of different grades being mixed together and the tinges of gray told that the fluid had come from someone else's lines.

"Whos is it?"

Scrapper swung his arm out, gesturing to the mechs that stood trying look into the tent behind him.

"Ours, now drink. Part of your problem is that you're not getting enough energon."

Scrapper stood and glared at him until he raised the cube and took a long drag. Choking on the bitter fluid but forcing it down.

"Good, come on."

Scrapper helped him to his feet and Bee steadied him but stayed sitting on his aft with his feet sprawled out in front of him. Looking down at his friend he could see why he hadn't moved. Glowing interrupter wires wound through Bee's leg armor. Paralyzing the mech and holding him in place so he couldn't move more then a few feet.

"Bee?"

The Autobots leg was still fragged from Blackout landing on it. In truth, it looked like only the chest wound had been repaired.

Bumblebee gestured for him to go, making a shooing motion with his arms. A quick scan showed no human life on the property.

He growled low and shoved what that could mean away.

Scrapper tugged on his arm and Barricade swatted it away with more claw then was necessary. He turned from Bee and slowly made his way out of the tent and faced the awaiting mechs.

Onslaught stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. The police interceptor growled again, he had worked with the mech on quite a few occasions and it was well known that Barricade wasn't a touchy feely mech. He was even better known for his rip it off and smack you with it if you tried policy.

Yet the large hand remained on his shoulder and when the other one came to touch the seam of his chest plates, it prevented him from jerking away, but not from trying.

"Don't Barricade, you'll just hurt yourself. We need to see this with our own optics. We are Decepticons, we expect lies."

Scrapper stood at his elbow, the yellow mech impassive as Onslaught pressed on his seam again, asking for him to open it.

He shook his helm.

To ask him to show his spark, something only him, his creator, Blackout and Bee had seen was preposterous. He could be killed instantly or the little one could be harmed in some way.

"Please Barricade, you've been sentenced to death by Starscream for betraying Megatron. We need to see why we are going against our orders."

"Just rip his chest open. It's what Blackout had to of done to get the scraplet in there."

"If there is anything there."

Rampage and Motormaster, two very large and very volatile mechs. If there was any chance of him exposing himself it faded away at the sound of their vocalizers.

Onslaught shot a dirty glare over his shoulder then nodded to Scrapper. With the ease of a master, Onslaught twisted Barricades arms behind his back and braced with his legs so the smaller mech couldn't kick out.

"NO! Let me go you fragging tin heap!"

Scrapper stepped in and over-road his lock again, pulling his chest plates as far apart as they'd go.

"You rusted pile of skid slag, let me go!"

Scrapper stepped aside, exposing his spark to the brutal elements of earth and to the questioning optics of the waiting mechs.

"Told you that's how its have to happen Onslaught, almost think the fragtard likes to have his Chest popped open. Bet cha Blackout would agree… oh wow."

Rampage crouched in front of him casting a letcurus glare on his delicate bits before looking at the growing mess of wires and plating attached to his spark. Motormaster shoved the slightly smaller mech out of the way and the Black Freightliner took his position to gawk and glare before actually looking at the forming bulge.

"Sweet Primus, it's really a new life."

Barricade flinched as the semi reached in, bracing long before the finger gently prodded the tangled wires. He felt the movement against his spark as the new life protested being poked. He twisted and fought against Onslaughts grip, refusing to look any mech in the optic as the last mech came forward to see.

Deadend rolled up in his car form and transformed tilting his helm to the side before mumbling something and returning to his vehicle form. The sleek lines of the Infinity a clash against the piles of sand and rocks of the grown over gravel pit.

Onslaught loosned his grip and steadied Barricade as he closed his chest. His intakes rattled harshly and he felt the urge to purge creep into his systems.

"I hate you all."

"Ah good, and here I thought you would have lost your cheerful disposition by now."

"Stuff if up your exhaust."

Onslaught let go of him but stayed close. It was obvious the mech was in charge. Scrapper wasn't much of a leader and the others were better at blowing stuff up then figuring out what stuff to blow up.

"So 'cade, any special move's needed to plant one of those little suckers in anyone? Or is it luck of the draw?"

"Perhaps its prolific interfacing, you know he and Blackout were going at it like turbo-rabbits."

"What I want to know is when are we going to get to try our theories out on the Autobot. I mean that's why we kept him, isn't it?"

Bee squeaked from the tarp tent and Onslaught snorted.

"Rampage, I never took you as an Autobot sympathizer. I should beat the peace loving slag out of you on principle."

"Sympathizer my aft and you know it. All this talk of 'facing has got my hydraulics pressurized. I'd frag just about anything right now. Willing or not."

"And that's why you got the late night patrol, Scrap head. I don't want to register your ping with in 5 miles of this pit."

"Awwwww frag you."

Motormaster laughed and Rampage swiftly punched him. The ensuing scuffle escalated to a full out battle as the Semi struck back. Onslaught shook his head as the clangs and screeches echoed off the steep slopes of the gravel pits walls. Barricade shivered in the damp air and crossed his arms.

It was surreal.

At one point, this was normal. This was what he came back too after every mission. The bickering, the pettiness and the guarded closeness, but there was something else now.

He was an outsider.

He was carrying and needed help.

Decepticons didn't help.

Motermaster had Rampage in a head lock as the smaller mech uprooted the larger and they both collapsed into a mud puddle and continued fighting.

"When will Blackout return?"

Scrapper tugged on a guide wire on the multi colored tent. The plastic monstrosity twanged and shed a copious amount of water to the already saturated sand under it.

"Probably not until after nightfall. You should rest."

He still felt stiff but he didn't want to rest. It was all he seemed to do any more.

"What are you doing here anyway."

"Awaiting orders from Starscream."

Onslaught didn't bother to hide the contempt in his voice as he spoke his leader's name.

"Staying off raider and playing pick up when a new 'con shows up"

That explained a lot. Downtime was horrid. Not doing anything but mindless patrols made even the sane mechs go a bit glitched.

But he wasn't part of the group anymore.

"Don't do it, scrap head."

Barricade snapped his helm around to look at the attending excavator/ physician.

"Do what?"

"Close yourself off. You shove everyone away. You always have."

He sneered and staggered a few steps back toward the tarp tent and the Autobot.

"It's so much easier to keep track of your friends when you don't have any."

Onslaught grabbed him from behind, reaching around Barricade's smaller chest to tap the plating right above his spark.

"Do you know what Blackout meant when he etched you?"

The Swat vehicle was considerably larger then him and in his current state the cop car knew he couldn't fight for slag.

He still didn't like being touched and pulled away from the mech.

"That he thinks he owns me."

Scrapper stepped closer, boxing him in. Barricade growled and stepped back, his back mounted proximity sensors pinging from the flimsy tent.

The larger mechs looked at each other. Onslaught nodded slightly to Scrapper before sidestepping to even out the gap between him and the tent.

"Sometimes I think you've spent too much time alone. I know you were a factory mech, so some of the finer points of cultures were never loaded. But still, with you and Blackout I thought you would at least try to…"

Scrapper rubbed his chin plate.

"Learn? Acclimate is perhaps a better word."

Onslaught huffed in what Barricade long a go learned was impatience that was soon followed by a swift kick to the aft or a knock to the cranium. The swat truck waved his hand and the excavator huffed in return.

"Blackout was a Communications mech. They were all commissioned builds for their particular city- states. Blackout was made for Iacon. He and all of the others of his spec's were designed for handling the city's secure talk lines. They never left the facility, could never talk about what they heard on the channels they monitored and guarded from hacking. In short, they were owned by the city. The only thing that was theirs was their spark. It's the only thing they trusted after spending their existence listening to the lie's spun in the high courts. If they found a mech they wanted to be with, they gave them their spark. The mech then 'owned' it. Now do you get it?"

Barricade shifted in the wet sand.

"I get it."

"He risked a lot to find you after you didn't show at the scheduled rendezvous. He's trying to explain the trip to Illinois to Starscream right now."

"I said I get it."

Scrapper grabbed his arm, forcing the smaller mech to look at him.

"Do you really? Do you think you're here just because of him? You do. I can see the fragging gears turning in your anti-social head. You're here because we followed him. Because we were going to help a con that has over the eons become our comrade. We were all prepared to kick Auto-snot aft to get you back. Just to find out you left on your own. And this."

Scrapper gestured to his midsection.

"This is more important then just your feeling's or lack of feeling's for the Helio. This is important for all Decepticons. Without the cube we would have died out. Now, we as a species have a way to repopulate."

Barricade jerked his arm away and staggered back. His feet slid on the rain slicked tarp and he wrenched himself sideways to maintain his footing. A burst of warning lights clouded his HUD as his middle flat out refused to move as he needed it to. There was no pain though. Just a distant pressure as he collapsed to the soggy earth under him. Taking the blue tarp acting as the door flap with him, sending a sudden rain of pent up water cascading around him. Onslaught bent to assisted him and Barricade snarled and clawed the hand before it could touch him.

"Cade. What the frag?"

Onslaught's deep voice boomed through the gravel pit. Although he felt no pain Barricade curled up, protecting his middle as he scooted back through the blasted sand to sit next to Bumblebee.

The sound of Motormaster's and Rampage's fight died out as their heavy footfalls drew near.

"I'm not going to be a quick connect."

"Why? You already are. That's how you ended up that way isn't it?"

"Shut it Rampage."

The bulldozer threw his helm back and laughed. The metallic sound echoing making it sound even more maniacal before snapping it forward with a dead serious look on his face plate.

"Make me."

Onslaught looked down at Barricade then at the yellow dozer before smiling.  
"It'll be my pleasure skid licker."

The black and white urban assault vehicle squared off with Rampage and as the dozer charged, Onslaught fired. Three wide spectrum stunners hit the mech knocking him to his aft. The Swat vehical stomped once; crushing the panels on the mech's left arm and bending the transformation cog underneath. Crouching down Onslaught smiled again.

"I want that pile of rocks and earth slag moved from there to over there. And since you don't seem able to transform at the moment, I guess you'll have to use your hands."

"ShhhhHHhXXzzzz Algggerr."

"Well I guess that dirt pile could be moved too, thanks for pointing it out. Now Get The Frag OFF YOUR AFT! Your 2 bit processor malfunctioning scrap heap? Move it!"

Slowly, with a great many twitches as the stun shock wore off, Rampage clamored to his feet and over to the large grass covered gravel pile Onslaught had gestured to. Starting the arduous task of moving the rocks across the width of the pit.

Bee set his hand on Barricade's back in a supportive gesture as Onslaught returned to question him. Glaring at the Camaro before starting.

"We aren't asking you to be one 'Cade. I don't think Blackout would tolerate having to share you."

"And we've all seen what he can do to a mech that wrongs him. I usually get the task of gluing the bits back together. What he did to you… wasn't any were near as bad as he could have made it."

"What we're asking is, why did you run to the Autobots? We are assisting you. We haven't said anything to the fliers. Not that they'd listen to a damn thing we'd say."

His pump felt dry and he didn't want to look at either of the mechs waiting for his answer. Motormaster was shuffling around behind them keeping far enough away to not aggravate Onslaught.

It seemed silly now, stupid really.

Then again it didn't.

"The femm program… I never… It was…"

"Disgusting is what it was 'Cade. Megatron shut the program down once the details of it came out. Even Shockwave disapproved it and he's had some questionable experiments over the ages."

"Starscream ran the program and he is in charge now. I don't want to end up like that."

"You won't."

"How do you know? He set me up for betraying Megatron. I wouldn't put it past him to shoot his own trine to get to lead the Desepticons. And offering up a way to repopulate would defiantly sway other 'Con's into joining him. I don't ever want to end up chained to a wall forced to carry over and over again. Or forced to try to plant another one in me over and over again."

He was trembling, his midsection throbbed and Bee felt warm beside him. The yellow hand never left his back and he turned to Bee.

"I wanted to go to the Autobots to avoid the possibility altogether. And to not have to worry about mechs like Rampage trying to frag me when Blackouts not here."

There was more, lots more. It was like a dam burst and everything he'd worried about was rushing to be voiced. So that Onslaught could nodded that little nod of his and Scrapper could look like he was filing everything he said away for sorting and calculation at a different time. Mid rant a solid thump came from his middle. Making him pause and before he could continue it came again.

"You alright 'Cade?"

Scrapper cocked his head watching him like a hawk.

Barricade pressed his hand over where the thump came from and couldn't stop the look of surprise when it happened again.

"The little one… is doing something."

Scrapper offered his hand and shyly Barricade placed it over the spot his had just occupied. Again the thump and the excavator's optics widened.

"It's kicking, performing operational checks I guess you could say."

"Is it almost done? It is going to come out now?"

"No, not yet. I estimate a few weeks perhaps a few months before its ready to separate from you. Its growth seems dependant on your energy intake. The better quality stuff the more rapid the growth. You've been living off scrap and human fuels so its development has been really slow."

Scrapper pulled his hand away and the little one kicked again.

"Cade you need to rest, it might not hurt at the moment but I know you tweaked yourself when you fell."

He nodded glumly and the two mechs backed away. Scrapper replacing the blue tarp shielding him from Motormasters prying eyes. He wasn't tired. Not really.

But the brake from the questions was welcome.

Turning to the silent yellow mech Barricade surveyed the damaged leg. It was brutal. Twisted metal and frayed wires mashed together. The glowing interrupter lines providing a sort of pain relief as they simply prevented the legs inputs from going past them.

"Where are the humans?"

"The town a few miles away. They needed to get supplies. Blackout promised Rampage could visit their families should they try to contact anyone."

Barricade nodded and flinched as a particularly hard kick reverberated off his chassis.

"Can I?"

Bee reached out and with a huff Barricade positioned his hand like he had for Scrapper.

After a few moments the thump came and the blue optics grew wide.

"Wow, that's just so… wow."

"How very articulate of you."

Barricade removed Bee's hand and pulled his medical kit out.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean. Its one thing to say it's a living new spark; it's another to feel it. It's just so amazing."

Barricade shook his helm and scooted around so that Bee's damaged leg was in front of him.

"You're supposed to rest."

"Scrapper won't fix it, he won't let you die, but he won't waist his time or efforts on you. So shut it."

Bee nodded then laughed.

"Make me."


	17. chapter 17

"Cade"

"Barricade."

Bee shook his shoulder array. Prying him from the depths of recharge.

"Mnnng."

The Police car rolled over. The yellow face not what he wanted to see when he first on-lined.

"Come on Cade, get up."

He felt fingers grab a sensor node on his array and tweak. It didn't hurt per say, but it didn't feel very nice either. Growling, he dug his claws into the leg supporting his helm. The sharp intake and rapid cycle of air a pleasant sound against the cicadas incessant thrum. Still he brought his arms under his frame and pushed himself into a sitting position as the last bytes of recharge drifted from him.

Bee sat with the interrupter wires glowing softly red through his somewhat repaired but still damaged leg. He had spent the previous day repairing what he could, but the leg still needed the minuet repairs only a skilled medic or an internal repair system could provide.

A snort drew his focus and he watched the male dip his hand into his pants and scratch. The humans had returned, sadly, covered in grime pulling a red wagon with a10 gallon fuel container for Bee and an assortment of supplies for them. The flesh wads currently laid curled up behind the Autobot on sleeping bags. Dirt smeared across their disgusting faces. The males hand retreated from his pants and wrapped around the sleeping female.

He shuttered and looked away.

How Bee tolerated their company was still and would always be a mystery to him. OK, their company wasn't that bad, it was preferable to Rampage's, but their dirty, oily, fleshiness…

Barricade had to force the sudden rise of energon back down and into his tank.

His processor relayed a secondary error to him and Barricade cleared it. Only to have it return in a klick. He frowned in displeasure at the seated bot as his chrono confirmed the error.

"It's 2 am, I do need some recharge."

"Blackout just touched down. I thought you'd want to…"

Barricade stood, or tried to. He made it halfway before his sore middle made him return to a seated position. The sour tingle of not quite pain eked past the interrupter and he had to cycle air for a few moments to compose himself.

With a clank and an embarrassing chug, Bee pulled himself up. Balancing on one foot and using his damaged one for support. The Autobot reached down and assisted Barricade to his feet before settling back on to his aft.

"… thanks."

Bee just nodded and Barricade pulled the tarp acting as a door back and stepped out into the darkness. His optics applied infra-red and light enhancing filters almost instantly to compensate. Blackout stood with his back to the tarp-tent thing talking to the others and Barricade set out for the heated hulks of metal standing in the center of the dirt pit.

"6 pallets isn't bad. It should be enough energon to last us until the next time Screamer remembers to feed his grounders. Whenever that maybe."

"That's for all of the teams Onslaught, 1 pallet each."

Blackout sounded tired, his rumbling voice egged with weariness.

"… his processor must be fragged. 1 each?"

"1 each, with the last pallet divvied between the mechs to large or to imbedded to seek their own fuel."

"1 fifty gallon drum won't last Octane very long or Astrotrain either. Douse he plan on sending more later?"

Barricade shook his helm, catching Onslaughts optic and holding it as he approached. Anger welled up inside him. It was always there, the collection of wrongs he could never right. The feeling's of being small and week and being forced to do something he truly didn't want to. He'd always pushed it down. Shoved it away and ignored it.

Now he couldn't.

"Not that I know of Scraper, he's…

Barricade broke in, interrupting Blackout.

"A stupid leader that's hideously biased to flyers and doesn't think us grounders are worth feeding."

The mechs turned to him, Onslaught nodded in agreement and Scrapper glared.

"Barricade, I thought you were recharging? You need to recharge."

He snarled, silencing the mechs. The great hovering idiot had shattered his pit of I don't care. Had rummaged through the things that lurked in his processor and set them free.

The anger and hate and swelling emotions in general burned like rancid energon flowing through his lines. Contorting his voice as he spoke.

"I'll be fine, so will the little one. YOU on the other servo have a lot to atone for."

Barricade jabbed his finger at the helio. Blackout reached out to set his large hand on his shoulder and Barricade burst into action. Claws raked up the reaching arm then dipped into a seam. His foot slammed into Blackouts ankle strut as the claws found new places to rip and tear.

His middle protested, the tweaks and twangs of almost pain accompanied each twist to bring his talons to bear. Barricade didn't care, pain was an old friend, one that he knew well. Blackout stood still, letting him rip and shred without even raising an arm to block. Energon soon seeped out of the gashes to run down the matte black paint to glow blue on the dirt and gravel.

The other Decepticons stood silent as he continued his assault. Retribution was considered a personal mater.

They wouldn't interfere.

His spark pulsed and his middle stung, had it been more cooperative he would have leapt and ripped open the mech's face. Instead he staggered back, cycling air rapidly as his hand came to rest on the throbbing bulge.

"Easy now, Barricade."

Onslaught came up behind him and held him by his shoulders. Not letting go when he tried to shrug him off.

Scrapper stepped forward only to be waved off by Blackout.

"I do suppose I deserve this. I'm not very pleasant when I don't want to be."

Barricade growled.

"You're never pleasant, you barely rate as tolerable."

The helio chuckled.

"You seem to like my intolerable-ness."

The helio reached out and Barricade diced the approaching hand.

"Like' this."

The Mustang jerked out of Onslaughts hold to punch the helio. The clang echoed off the walls of the pit. The tweak of pain blossomed and bloomed into a fierce stab as his top rotated with the punch. He squealed and dropped, wrapping both arms around his midsection. Scrapper was on him immediately, prying his hands away and running scans.

"You've over done yourself 'Cade. The interrupter fried from trying to block so much."

The Excavator removed the smoking little black box from his chest and tossed it aside. The pain that he always know was there flared and waned with each intake cycle. With it came the ebb and flow of the emotions he had kept locked away. Each stab had him hating Blackout so fiercely he plotted ways to kill him and each lull had coolant pooling in his optics from the thought of life without the helio.

Scrapper set his chest panels back into place and backed away.

"You need to recharge Barricade."

Blackout invaded his line of sight, reaching out for him and this time Barricade let him touch him. The large hand dipped under his shoulders and the other under his knee joints, lifting him off the gravel despite his protests.

"I did already apologize. You ungrateful scrap head."

Barricade felt the vibrations of his vocalizer more then heard the words. It soothed the tempest of emotions raging inside of him. Just being close to him, feeling the spark pulse next to his own tempered the rage.

He hated him for that.

Hated him for picking him up and showing off his weakness to everyone.

Yet he couldn't even stay mad at the mech that had hacked him, had nearly killed the little one growing inside of him because of jealously. It was something he knew and respected… not these new and strange warm feelings that had started to creep in. Blackout thought he was his. Sure it riled him to be branded as owned by a mech, but he was oddly ok with that. Even more so now that he knew what the chopper meant behind it.

Primus he was almost as bad as an Autobot.

Barricade buried his face in the helio's ample shoulder struts and ran his talons gently down Blackouts front in his own apology. Feeling with his talons as opposed to seeing the dents that his claws had found purchase in. Pulling away slightly he surveyed the damage.

"Blackout… what happened?"

Larger dents then what he could have created pocked his front and Barricade could see several pinched lines and jammed cogs because of them.

"Starscream was not overly thrilled at my sudden deviation of his grand plan to intercept your attempt to join the Autobots."

Barricade jerked in Blackouts arms and winced from the shooting pains that came with it.

"No he doesn't now you're here 'Cade. I had to sell him a load of exhaust gas about these guys going critical from lack of energon."

The helio gestured out to Scrapper and Onsluaght.

"Oh by the way, I stopped you two from doing something that would have revealed us to the flesh wads in your desperate bid to get energon."

Scrapper's already gruff visage darkened as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I don't want to be part of your theatrics. You know damn well if I had needed energon I could have manufactured it."

"So why don't you then? Primus knows we could use it."

Onslaught demanded as he gestured out to the 6 pallets.

The sharp twang of metal pulling taunt then snapping filled the gravel pit. Followed closely by the crinkle and rustle of the tarps as the tent collapsed into itself.

Bee's static filled voice hashed out a few garbled words as the second figure under the mass of plastic lunged at him. A human scream echoed through the pit and the weak plastic ripped from the battling mechs underneath them. Two shades of yellow rolled out from the myriad of colors locked in battle. One dirt caked matte and one splotched with ample amounts of primer gray.

"Rampage!"

Barricade shouted at the fighting mechs only to wince and be held tighter by Blackout as Onslaught descended upon the fray. There was a hearty clang and a few muffled yelps before the Bulldozer slid out from Onslaught's grasp.

The demented yellow con stood up slowly staring and grinning at the squad commander just out of reach.

"I couldn't let these two have all the fun. Besides, the Autobot looked lonely."

The SWAT assault vehicle looked livid, rumbling as he spoke. Stalking toward the

"Rampage you were assigned a patrol, why aren't you on it?"

The con shrugged.

"Saw the roflcopter land, saw an opportunity to depressurize my hydraulics."

There was the faint sound of a weapon activating and Onslaught sidestepped just in time to avoid the blast. The undercharged blue plasma round caught Rampage square in the face. The gelled mess clinging and slowly burning as the mech flailed in his attempts to remove it.

Bee's arm reverted back with a chirr as the mech crouched awkwardly over the remains of the tarps. The primer gray leg wobbled with the knee joint locking as he made his way to the thrashing heated lumps still covered by the multitudes of colored plastic. Bee pulled the tarps off his flesh-wad pets and whined questioningly as the female failed to stand and jump around as the male did.

Barricade wiggled in Blackouts arms, bothered by the stillness of the human and Bee's frantic clicks for assistance. With a huff Scrapper moved beside them, running a simple scan. Then a much higher level one that had a visible red beam wash over the fallen meat stick.

"What's wrong? Is she going to be OK? She needs to go to the hospital."

Scrapper huffed again and knelt down, bluntly ignoring the tittering male human at his side firing questions and half panicked demands to go to the hospital.

The Con extended his finger, changing it from a digit into some sort of medical devise.

"What are you going to do to her?"

Scrapper turned to look back at him growling at being reduced to xeno vet.

"Oh. I don't know what I'm doing. Perhaps I'll make glue out of her. I hear you're quite sticky when stepped on."

The collection of Con's chuckled and the human male threw himself between the extended finger and his girlfriend.

"Move, Meat bag."

Scrapper waved nonchalantly.

"No. nonono No. You're not going to touch her. We're going to the hospital, right now. Bee, Bee lets go."

To his credit the Autobot managed to stand and start his transformation sequence before the screech of non compliance from his damaged leg halted all progress. Slowly he had to revert back to his bipedal form with his bad leg set at an awkward angle from the rest of him.

Scrapper shook his helm at the 'Bot.

"A collection of wrecks."

A small electrical charge released from the tip of his extended finger. Hitting the defending male and passing through to the felled female. Bee screeched and pulled himself to his feet, wobbling over to the smoking pair. Barricade struggled to be set down, Blackout just holding tighter for a few moments before walking over to get a better look at Scrappers handy work.

The helio kelt down, offering him a prime view.

"Sam…. Mikaela?"

Bee crashed next to the still set, gently shaking the fleshies. A low grown came from the female and the male jumped to his feet.

"What the hell!"

His hair stood on end and wafts of smoke drifted up from his now singed jacket.

"How was that suppose to help?"

"It made me feel better."

Scrapper stood with his hands on his hip struts and from the rear came the sound of laughing. Motormaster's from the depth of it.

"W-what?"

"She's fine, two broken ribs and most of her left side will …change color. What a strange way to show internal leakage."

"Leaking… like internal bleeding? Oh god. She really needs to go to the hospital."

He pivoted on his feet, looking at the gathered mechs in the darkness. Bee lay in a heap and he was being held by Blackout. The human seemed all out of mobile allies.

Swallowing hard Sam returned to the tarps and removed the red wagon from the plastic sheets. Pulling the dinky thing next to Mikaela and lifted her onto it.

"Sam…Sam what are you doing."

"Taking you to the hospital."

Onslaught stepped in front of the human struggling to move the wagon as it bogged down in the sand.

"You're not going."

"No. We're leaving. I'm sick and tired of this place. Of almost being stepped on and that crazy fuck, And and you. Bee, if you have to stay. Ok, fine. But we, we gota go."

Barricade struggled against Blackout. Writhing against the heilo holding him and the pain not letting him do much more then that.

Bee's voice came crisp and clear but low.

"She's bruised Sam. Their messing with you… with us."

"Can't have hospitals making inquires and slag like that now can we?"

Onslaught crouched down, over the two humans.

"Besides. Why are you two still alive anyway?"

Sam fell back and scrambled next to his female who croaked out.

"Because you need us… I heard you talking about the energon earlier. You can make it, but need supplies. Supplies Starscream won't let you go collect."

"Good human."

Onslaught made a patting motion over the curled female before standing up straight.

"We need the energon, even more so now with Barricade and the… sparkling. Scrapper will make it, won't you?"

The Excavator huffed, but nodded.

"So that just leaves them."

The Swat assault vehicle motioned to the humans.

"and you."

He squared off with Blackout.

"You're a flyer. A helicopter but a flyer in their optics non-the-less. You get beatings where a Grounder would have been off lined without hesitation. We've needed more energon for a long time Blackout."

Blackout's grip on him tightened exponentially, approaching the point of leaving dents.

"I've never sided with the seekers Onslaught."

He growled it.

Blackout set him down when he hissed in pain from the crushing grip. Static sparks danced around the larger mech as his rotor array clipped back. Lunging forward, one massive hand wrapping around Onslaughts throat the other converting into his pulse cannon and pressed against the his chest plating.

"I am loyal to Megatron, and to Soundwave. I will not have that questioned."

The Swat vehicle looked undaunted, even with his throat cables being crushed.

"So prove it… let us leave this pit."

Blackout dropped the mech with a bark of harsh laughter.

"Go then."

Onslaught watched warily as Blackout returned to Barricade. Not lifting the smaller mech up but crouching down beside him and putting an arm around to feel the growing bulge.

"Hurry up, Starscream doesn't want you to do anything he doesn't approve of. I could care less. But I do have deliveries to make before dawn."

The mocking tone dripping distaste as Onslaught nodded then turned to face the others.

"Motormaster transform and hook up to that flatbed trailer near the road. Scrapper you know what you need from the humans?"

The excavator just glared.

"Good, Deadend get over here and take them to the hospital. Monitor the outgoing comm's. Any word about who they are or robots or anything and torch the whole place."

The sleek Infinity rolled out from behind the gravel piles Rampage had relocated yesterday and opened its rear door silently when it reached the stunned looking humans.

Bee attempted to transform, failing several times before Scrapper came over and twisted the joint back into place with a hiss of pain from Bee and the pop of the metal reseating itself.

"Rampage is back on his patrol, not that you'd find that comforting."

Blackout just growled and tightened his grip to the point the Sparkling kicked, startling the both of them. Barricade said the new word a few times before shrugging it off. It was better then saying 'little one' all the time.

Onslaught transformed and activated a holo-projector over himself. Turning his Swat assault vehicle form into a small dump truck. Scrapper got himself situated on the flat bed and tied himself down as Motormaster hooked up.

Within moments the convoy rolled out with Bee and Deadend leading. Leaving the gravel pit silent but for his and Blackout's cycling of air.

What should he do?

He felt drained from the earlier argument but it was so… good to have the helio next to him. The sparkling kicked again as a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He really did need all the recharge he could get.

Just do it.

It wasn't like there would be another opportunity like this one.

The idea had been rolling around in his processor all yesterday once Scrapper and Onslaught had filled him in. Slowly the Mustang turned himself around. One servo at a time so not to strain himself any further until he face the glowering bulk of the chopper.

Lifting a hesitant hand, he ran a talon down Blackout's chest seam.

"Open it."

"Cade?"

"Just do it already."

With a questioning grumble the larger con cracked his chest. Only a fraction at first but wider as Barricade tried to wiggle his fingers in.

"Scrapper said to not … AGGGgg!"

Blackout grabbed his shoulders and silenced his vocalizer as the smaller mech continued to scratch his proclamation of ownership into the oversized blenders spark casing.

Glowing blue energon welled up in the marks and Barricade wiped it away.

"You belong to me, you pit spawned slagger."

"And you belong to me, you pathetic dirt covered runt."

Blackout wrapped his arms around Barricade, setting his large hand onto Cade's shoulder and rubbing the delicate sensors mounted there.

With a sigh, the Mustang curled against the helio's chest and let the next wave of exhaustion drag him into recharge.


End file.
